Obscure Clarity
by LordAnarchy666
Summary: Separating himself from the mundane, yet oppressive, world of the Dursley's, how will Harry embrace his new world of magic, action, and adventure? With secrets, jealousy, and a thirst for knowledge, Slytherin!Harry is not what the world expected.
1. Chapter 1

Even as late as Harry was getting onto the platform with the large red-haired family's help, he wasn't the last one on the train, or even close to the last. Eventful as it was to discover the hidden magical train platform, he was just happy that it was not some sort of sick joke.

It was apparent to him that many students put their trunks in a compartment and then went back outside to greet other families and to say goodbye to their own. Harry would be lying to say he wasn't jealous of the familial affection and love. He was lucky to even be on the train, all things considered.

The redheads, while apparently a very nice family, didn't have the easiest of times about it. Their large size worked against them, and it took all of the parent's efforts to just make sure that no one was left behind and that everyone that was supposed to be on the train, was indeed on the train.

Harry had merely taken the first compartment that was empty, and with the help of the redhead twins, both his and the youngest redhead's trunks were up in the storage racks. The youngest was nowhere to be seen yet, so Harry took a few moments to just gaze out the window and watch the families buzz about at the last minute.

A few people perked his attention for no good reason, such as a young tow-haired girl with black glasses and a blue bow hugging a smaller tow-haired girl who also wore a blue bow. Seeing the sisterly friendship was slightly nauseating, but that was just his jealousy shining through. But he didn't need family, he had Hogwarts, and he hoped to make a lot of friends. It was going to be a fresh start to his life, and he planned to take every advantage of that.

Turning his gaze from the two sisters, Harry spotted a solitary, chubby boy hugging an ashen-haired woman wearing a ridiculous hat with a stuffed vulture on it, along with an enormous red handbag. The young boy reluctantly let go of the lady, presumably his grandmother, before heading onto the train with everyone else.

There were plenty of interesting people, but Harry couldn't possibly see everyone. Probably the most standout out person in Harry's mind, and probably the minds of every male at the station, was a pale skinned, black haired woman wearing a very slim, form fitting green dress. She had prominent cleavage on display to stare at if her beautiful face didn't transfix everyone. Perhaps more curious than her beauty was the young girl that was hiding in her shadow. Just as pale as her mother, the daughter seemed shy, or perhaps embarrassed by the attention her mother was getting. She was cute, sure, but she was only eleven, and had a few years before she had her mother's beauty, if ever. Her mother kissed her on the forehead before sending her onto the train.

Nearly everyone was on the train by now, and just as Harry moved his focus away from the window and the pale woman, the compartment door slid open. A single redhead was pushed, gently, into the room by his two older twin brothers.

The door closed behind him, so it was just the two eleven year olds.

"Hi again," he started off nervously, "uh, we didn't get to introduce ourselves earlier… I'm Ron Weasley."

Harry shook Ron's hand, "Harry Potter."

"Wow, that's so cool."

"What?"

"Do you have, the, er - ?"

"Oh, yeah," responded Harry. He pulled back his hair, revealing his lightning bolt scar.

"I didn't realize you were the same age as me. I mean, I knew, but I didn't well, you know, realize I'd be going to Hogwarts with a legend."

"I'm that popular, huh?"

"Everyone knows you mate, or rather, knows of your story. But no one's actually met you before, not that I know of anyway," Ron said. He seemed unsure of what to say next. "Hidden away some say, no one knew where you were. My sister, heh, she must have written you a hundred times but never received a response."

"Really?" Harry asked, slightly amused at that idea. "I've never received anything until I got my Hogwarts letter. I didn't even know I was a wizard until a month ago."

"Wow, no way."

Harry nodded his head. "I grew up with my, er, muggle aunt, uncle, and cousin. I'm related to them through my mother who was…"

"Muggleborn," Ron supplied.

"Yeah, that. They hate magic and tried their best to not let me come here, but they relented in the end with some persuasion from Hagrid."

"They hate magic? I think everyone's going to be disappointed that you have not been having private lessons or something with Dumbledore since your birth."

"I've never even seen the man. I think my relatives just don't like anything that is different than them, fundamentally I suppose. They knew I was magical, but they denied it ever since I could remember, and treated me like I wasn't part of the family," admitted Harry. He hope getting the truth out about his upbringing right away would quell a lot of rumors about him before they start. " Without going into details, I will just say that I'm happy to be getting away from them."

Ron looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Are you saying that they, uh, hurt you? If they did, I'm sure any number of people would love to teach them a lesson."

"No, no, nothing like that. No abuse, at least nothing physically. I just never really felt like a part of the family, and they never went out of the way to make me feel like one. I'm not sure you'd understand that, what with there being four of you."

"Seven actually. But I see what you are trying to say, kind of. Family is all I really got. With seven of us, you could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left — Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy's a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they're really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat. My dad does his best, but…"

Ron showed him some homemade corn beef sandwiches to prove his point.

"I never got anything either. I never got new clothes and never got a proper birthday present. I never even had any money to buy anything until I learned I was a wizard and Hagrid took me to Gringotts. I got some money now, left over from my mum and dad, but I don't have any family or friends. You can be the first if you want."

"Sure mate," Ron responded quickly. "First friend of Harry Potter, blimey."

"I don't suppose you could tell me a little about, well, wizarding. I started to read a book, but there's only so much a book can teach I guess."

"Yeah I can do that. There's not much I know of muggles, but my dad finds them clever. I only just got my wand this summer like everyone else, so it's not like I know loads of magic. I've seen my family use a few spells before, but I don't actually know them, if you get what I'm saying?"

Harry nodded his head, even though he didn't understand.

"George told me a spell though. I haven't tried it yet, Mum would probably go crazy if she saw me doing magic, but I can try it if you want."

An excited look came across Harry's face. "That'd be cool."

Ron rummaged around in his battered trunk and pulled out an equally battered looking wand. "Damn, unicorn hair's nearly poking out."

Reaching deep into his pocket for something, Ron pulled out a battered looking rat. Battered was quite a common word when dealing with Ron's possessions. Just as he pointed his wand at the rat, the door opened revealing a girl with a large amount of bushy brown hair and two prominent front teeth.

"Neville's lost his toad, has anyone seen it?" She asked in a somewhat bossy voice, before actually taking notice of the people in the compartment.

"No, haven't seen a –"

"Oh, are you performing magic?" The girl cut in. "Well, let's see it then."

Ron shrugged to Harry, who shrugged back.

"_Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow… turn this stupid fat rat yellow!"_

Ron finished by jabbing his wand at the rat, but nothing happened.

"Stupid Scabbers, stupid spell. Should have known it's a dud..."

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" asked the girl. "It's not very good, is it? I've tried a few basic spells just for practice and curiosities sake, and they all worked for me. Nobody in my family is magical at all, and they were ever so surprised when I received my letter. I was so pleased though, when I got it. Hogwarts is the best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard – I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough – I'm Hermione Granger by the way, who are you?"

Ron's mouth remained agape for just a second longer than polite, but he quickly responded "Ron Weasley."

Hermione looked down at the rat scurrying about on Ron's lap before replying somewhat airily, "Charmed. And you?"

"Harry Potter."

"Are you really? I've read about you of course, in _Modern Magical History, The Rise and Fall_ –"

"Wait, I'm in books?" Harry asked, bewildered.

"Dozens. How could you not know?" she responded, perplexed.

"Well, no one's ever come to me for an interview, and I doubt that Voldemort –"

"Don't say his name!" Ron whispered harshly.

"Sorry. See, I don't know these things, the little details of the wizarding world that are so important. Anyways, I doubt You-Know-Who has given any interviews either, and aside from me and him, no one else truly knows what happened. And as I was too young to remember, I don't know what happened either. So how could books know anything?"

Hermione stood there gaping. "Books – What- How –"

After a few seconds of spluttering she merely left. Ron and Harry both shrugged simultaneously again and shared a laugh.

"Well mate, regardless of anything else you may learn, there is one thing that brings wizards and witches together, regardless of politics and family history. Quidditch."

"What's that?"

A giddy look came across Ron's face. "I'm glad you asked…"

Harry listened raptly as Ron described the most prominent wizarding sport, a mix of cliché broomstick riding, rugby, and ancient gladiatorial games. It sounded fun to watch, and Ron went on to describe some of the matches he saw, and went even further on to mention how Harry's father was once a Quidditch player for Gryffindor. That was one of the first things Harry learned about James Potter.

Ron continued on for a bit, he was quite enthusiastic about it. Eventually the door opened once more, showing a plump, elderly woman pushing a trolley laden with food.

"Anything off the cart, dears?" The woman asked in a kind voice.

Ron shook his head, but Harry got up to look.

"I've never had any of this stuff before Ron, any recommendations?"

Ron's eyes lit up and he started point out food to Harry, snacks to avoid (pumpkin pasties), and treats to get (chocolate frogs).

Harry, as a show of appreciation to their new friendship, bought two of everything suggested, plus a few extra frogs. Harry, never having any money at the Dursley's, relished the chance to spend a little bit of his new found wealth. Using it to gorge himself on candy seemed as good of a start as any.

Ron talked a little bit about his family, how they've all been in Gryffindor, before he went off on a tangent after opening a chocolate frog.

Harry, opening one of his own, got a Dumbledore card. "Wow, so _this_ is Dumbledore. Huh, he moved!"

"You can't expect him to stick around forever, can ya?"

"Hard to argue with that," Harry responded with a shrug. He turned the card over and read:

_ALBUS DUMBLEDORE_

_CURRENTLY HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS_

_Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling._

"He's probably the most famous wizard alive," Ron stated as he opened his second frog. "Darn, another Cliodna. I'm only missing Agrippa and Ptolemy for a set. You can redeem a set for some cool prizes."

"Really? Like what?"

"My brother Bill redeemed a set for Quidditch tickets when I was six. Chudley Cannons versus the Ballycastle Bats. The Cannons are my favorite team, probably because that was the first match I ever saw, and they won."

"That's pretty cool. I'd like to see a match."

"Oh, you won't have to wait long for that. Hogwarts has its own matches. Fred and George are the Gryffindor beaters, and Charlie was the seeker. He graduated last year so I guess that spot's open. I'd try out, but first years don't normally get on the teams."

Harry kept that in mind, still fuzzy on the idea of Quidditch in general. But that thought barely passed through his brain before the door opened, and the chubby kid from the platform with the vulture-hat grandma was standing in the door way.

"Sorry, but uh, have either of you two seen my toad?"

"Neville, right? Hermione Granger came by a bit ago looking for it. No toads, but we have these," replied Harry, and he tossed one of the frog boxes at the kid.

"Oi, thanks. So no toad?"

Both Ron and Harry, shook their heads no.

"Well, I really got to find him. I'll see you two at Hogwarts."

The chubby kid left just as quickly as he came, but not a minute passed before the door opened once again, and this time three boys framed the door. The one in the middle was clearly the leader. He was smaller than the two goons surrounding him, and his unnaturally blond hair stood out on the kid's pasty white face.

He had a demeanor about him that Harry didn't particularly like, but he wasn't about to be rude. The kid spoke up first. "I heard Harry Potter is on this train."

Harry was a bit wary, but he shook the proffered hand. "That would be me."

"I'm Draco Malfoy. You will find at Hogwarts that not all families are equal. If you ever need some… guidance, the Malfoy's will always lend an ear."

Harry wasn't sure what Draco meant, but he did notice that Ron became very suspicious of the boy, and Draco returned the same look. Harry didn't know what to do, so instead he tossed a chocolate frog to Draco, just as he had to Neville.

Draco looked confused for a second, and after realizing that Harry didn't do anything to it, he ate it. "Father doesn't usually allow me to have candy, so I appreciate it."

The kid seemed to be thrown off track, and unsure what to do next, he merely nodded and left as quickly as he arrived. After the door closed, Ron had some words of warning.

"I'd be careful with the Malfoy's. They're very influential and they have a lot of money to throw around. My dad says that Draco's father was in with You-Know-Who's lot, but claimed he was bewitched. Very old family and very shady, if you catch my meaning."

Harry was picturing a mobster in his mind, but he didn't know anything about the higher echelons of the wizarding world.

After a few minutes of talk, with Ron trying to explain what he knew, and with his father working for the wizarding government, Harry had gathered some bits of information that he found interesting.

Several hours passed and Ron slowly got over his star struck state and slowly realized that Harry was just another kid who was looking to make some friends, and Ron was very happy to meet someone his age who he could talk to and who would listen to his ramblings.

As the sun slowly sank down on the horizon, the door to the compartment opened once again. Harry was surprised more people didn't stop in to meet him due to his apparent fame, but that was fine by him. The person didn't walk in this time; instead she just stuck her head in.

She was an older student, with pink spiky hair, and as quickly as the words "We're fifteen minutes from Hogwarts, I suggest getting changing into your school robes unless you enjoy being embarrassed," left her mouth, she was gone, yelling the same thing into every compartment.

"That was… odd," Harry commented.

Ron shrugged. "Probably a prefect."

Harry didn't respond, but instead pulled down his trunk and searched for his wizarding gear. He slipped the robe on, and he felt distinctly uncomfortable. Slipping it on felt like slipping into the wizarding world. If he was going to be a wizard, he was going to have to dress like one. It was clearly going to be an acquired taste though, but he was anxious to leave the Dursley's world behind and begin anew.

The robes weren't anything overly fancy, but they were the first new clothes he had ever owned. Ron was stuck with his brothers' hand-me-downs, which were probably second-hand to start, but there was no pity in Harry's eyes over that. He lived like that his whole life, and he was thankful that he had the chance to learn magic. The clothes one wore were not indicative of the kind of wizard one will be, and so far Ron was a good bloke.

Harry hoped he would be sorted into the same House as Ron, and with the little bit he had learned about them, it was very possible. Ron's whole family had been Gryffindors, and he grew up in the same exact environment as them, same beliefs and everything, so chances were he would follow them. Harry's parents were also Gryffindors, but he didn't grow up with them - he grew up with the Dursley's, so all bets were off in his mind. He was prepared for anything, but he hoped for the best.

The train started to slow down, and looking out the window, Harry saw a village come into view. As the train approached it, Harry noticed the village was old, as if time just passed it by. There were no cars, no electricity, and no sign of the modern world. Harry kind of liked that.

After the train stopped, and after the prefects told everyone to leave their trunks, everyone rushed out of the doors, anxious to set foot back in Hogwarts. Summer was nice, but there was something about Hogwarts that just enchanted everyone of any age.

A voice boomed out over everyone, and Harry spotted the unmistakable form of Hagrid holding up lantern that illuminated his large bearded face. For someone who's never seen someone so large, Hagrid would be very imposing, but to Harry, he was a welcomed sight.

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" Hagrid called out. "C'mon, follow me — any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

All the eleven year olds gathered around the giant of a man, none of them more than half of his height. It was dark out, somewhat damp, and cold. The train platform wasn't well lit, and the students slipped a few times while trying to follow Hagrid as he led them down a steep path through a forest.

Eventually the group stopped at the edge of a large lake. "Careful now, no more'n four to a boat," instructed Hagrid.

Harry climbed into a boat along with Ron, and two girls he hadn't seen before - a redhead and a blonde. Before pleasantries could be made though, they were all forced to clutch to the side of the boat as Hagrid yelled "Forward!"

The boats lurched as whatever magic controlled them activated from Hagrid's voice. The water was calm, almost too calm. The boats glided across the glass-like water with little problem, and Harry was growing more and more excited by the second.

In the distance, Harry thought he could see a large, looming building, and as the moon broke free of the clouds, he caught his first glimpse of Hogwarts.

Sitting upon a sheer cliff face, Hogwarts' turrets, battlements, and towers gazed down upon the first-years. It was an awe-inspiring sight, and as they got closer and closer, the larger the castle became.

"Heads down!" Hagrid yelled as the boats headed for the wide, ivy-covered cave in the cliff face. The cave lead right into a dark tunnel, and Harry was sure they were underneath Hogwarts.

Light coming from torches played on the cave ceiling as they entered an underground harbor. The boats pushed ashore on their own volition and the students clambered out onto the rocky shore.

"Everyone out now, gather 'round!" Hagrid called out. All the first years flocked towards the large man and his lantern, eagerly wanting to get out of the cold and wet cavern and into the school.

Herding the flock of students up an old, carved-stone path and up to a large door, the giant of a man knocked on it slowly with a massive fist, three times. The door open quickly, and standing in the doorway was a tall, dark-haired witch beginning to show signs of her age. She had a very stern face, and Harry had the impression that she was very strict.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you Hagrid," the professor responded, opening the door wide and ushering the kids inside.

Harry looked around the Entrance Hall, marveling at the walls, ceiling and just the sheer size of the room. It could easily fit a large house in it, perhaps even two. Torches hung from the stone walls, illuminating the room, and on the opposite side of the hall, Harry spied a staircase leading upwards into the castle.

Voices could be heard coming from a door to the right, mostly likely the rest of the students, but Professor McGonagall led them into a smaller side room. The students crowded around the Professor, looking at her expectantly.

"Welcome to Hogwarts. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but first you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting Ceremony is a very important tradition, dating back centuries. Your House will be like your family here at Hogwarts. You will attend classes with your House, sleep in the House dormitory, and spend a lot of your free time in your House common room."

"There are four Houses, each with their own noble history and each has produced their fair share of talented witches and wizards. Each House is named after one of this school's founders; Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. While you are here at Hogwarts, your triumphs will gain you House points, and any rule-breaking will lose them. At the end of the year, the points will be tallied up, and the victor will earn the treasured House Cup. I hope each of you will be a credit to your house in the upcoming years and make the most of this opportunity."

"The Sorting Ceremony will begin in a few minutes. I suggest straightening yourselves up; you will be in front of your peers. I shall return when we are ready for you, please wait quietly."

The professor walked out the door, and all the first years just looked at each other uneasily after she left.

"How do you reckon they sort us?" someone asked from behind.

"My brother said we had to wrestle a troll," Ron responded helpfully.

"Is this the same brother that told you that rubbish spell on the train?" Harry asked with a laugh. His outward nature belied what he was feeling on the inside. He wasn't ready for any sort of test or show of magic. He didn't know _any _magic yet. And what if he wasn't chosen at all? He wasn't expecting this when he had arrived.

There were a lot of hushed whisperings, and Harry thought he could hear Granger muttering various spells under her breathe, as if she was deciding which one would be the best to use. She wasn't the only one panicking though, it was apparent that no one really knew how they would be sorted.

Suddenly, a shriek rang out through the room, and everyone turned around to see several dozen ethereal figures bursting through the wall.

"What the – " gasped Harry.

"Ghosts, I think," responded Ron. The ghosts in question didn't even seem to see the first years until they were comfortably in the middle of them all.

"Oh, what do we have here?" One of them asked.

"I think it's the first years," Another answered.

"New students about to be sorted. How Exciting!" Said a third.

"I hope to see you in Hufflepuff," A large one said. "My old House you know."

Just then the door opened up, and McGonagall came back into the room, sending a piercing look at the ghosts. "Move along now, the Sorting Ceremony is about to begin." One by one the ghosts disappeared back through the wall.

"Now form a line and follow me."

Harry was very nervous, and it was as if his legs were made of lead. Still, he managed to follow a sandy-haired kid, with Ron behind him, out into the Great Hall.

Everyone noticed the magnificent ceiling first, enchanted to look like the sky outside. But everyone's eyes quickly fell to the students and teachers assembled below. There must have been at least two hundred students, sitting at four massively long tables, with the Professors sitting at their own table at the head of the Hall. But the Hall itself was absolutely massive. Harry had thought the Entrance Hall was huge, but this was at least ten times larger than that.

Flaming braziers lined the wall, with the walls themselves decorated with massive tapestries depicting a lion, raven, snake, and badger. And floating in the air above them were thousands of candles casting their haunting light down upon the tables below. The tables were decked with golden plates and goblets, and with dozens of hungry students excited for the Sorting, but also excited to eat.

Harry's mouth was slightly agape, as was everyone else's. This was Hogwarts. This was _magic_.

McGonagall led them in front of the Professors' table so everyone in the Hall would be able to see them. Harry started to get the jitters again upon seeing hundreds of faces peering up at them, along with ghosts spread periodically amongst them, flickering in the pale candlelight.

Procuring a battered looking four-legged stool, the elder witch carefully placed an aged wizarding hat upon it reverently. The hat was very faded, it may have been red at one point in its distant past, and Harry couldn't help but wonder if they had to pull a rabbit out of it.

Everyone stared at the hat, students and professor alike. There was several seconds of complete silence before the hat started to twitch on the stool. With a rip forming above the brim - a crude mouth, the hat burst into song, much to all of the first years' astonishment.

"_Oh, you may not think I'm pretty, _

_But don't judge on what you see, _

_I'll eat myself if you can find _

_A smarter hat than me. _

_You can keep your bowlers black, _

_Your top hats sleek and tall, _

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat _

_And I can cap them all. _

_There's nothing hidden in your head _

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be. _

_You might belong in Gryffindor, _

_Where dwell the brave at heart, _

_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry _

_Set Gryffindors apart; _

_You might belong in Hufflepuff, _

_Where they are just and loyal, _

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true _

_And unafraid of toil; _

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_If you've a ready mind, _

_Where those of wit and learning, _

_Will always find their kind; _

_Or perhaps in Slytherin _

_You'll make your real friends, _

_Those cunning folk use any means _

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid! _

_And don't get in a flap! _

_You're in safe hands (though I have none) _

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

Harry slowly blinked his eyes, in a futile attempt to bring himself out of his stupor. A singing hat was not what he expected.

Calling attention to herself, McGonagall unfurled a scroll of parchment, and after adjusting her glasses, she instructed the first years of the process. "As I call your name, you will come up and sit on this stool. I will place the Sorting Hat upon your head, and it will make its decision as to what House you belong to. You will then take a seat at your new House table."

"So we just have to put a silly hat on our head," Ron whispered to Harry. "I'm going to kill Fred for the troll wrestling idea."

Before Harry could respond, McGonagall called out the first name. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A girl with blond pigtails nervously sat down upon the stool, the same one from the boat ride across the lake, and McGonagall placed the Hat on her head. The hat twitched for around fifteen seconds before shouting "HUFFLEPUFF!"

Cheers erupted from the Hufflepuff table while polite applause came from the others. McGonagall took off the Sorting Hat, and tapping her wand on Hannah's clothing, they changed from generic Hogwarts attire into her new Hufflepuff colors.

As Hannah rushed down to join her housemates, McGonagall called out "Bones, Susan," and a redhaired girl (also from the boat ride) sat down and was promptly put into "HUFFLEPUFF!" as well.

"Boot, Terry," was the first to have his colors changed into Ravenclaw Blue by McGonagall, followed shortly by "Brocklehurst, Mandy."

Lavender Brown, who had neither lavender nor brown hair, was the first to be sorted into Gryffindor, while a tall girl named Millicent Bulstrode became the first with the green of Slytherin. Both of Draco Malfoy's friends from the train, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, made it into Slytherin as well, along with a girl named Tracey Davis.

Looking extremely pleased with herself, Hermione Granger got into Gryffindor after the hat sat on her head for two or three minutes. After that it was the tow-headed girl from the platform, Daphne Greengrass. She got sorted into Slytherin, and when McGonagall changed her robes to the Slytherin motif, she tapped her wand on Daphne's hair ribbon, changing it from blue to green as well. McGonagall got a smile from the girl, but Harry couldn't help but think she looked like the kind of girl Dudley would pick on for being nerdy.

The boy with the toad and grandmother with a stuffed vulture hat, Neville Longbottom, got sorted into Gryffindor, and after giving a great sigh of relief, he joined the others at his new House table. He didn't seem to match the hat's description of a Gryffindor.

Unsurprisingly, Draco Malfoy got sorted into Slytherin after a half second deliberation by the Hat. It didn't even look like the hat touched his head, but perhaps the boy's confidence in which house he would get in was well-founded. A black haired girl named Pansy Parkinson joined Draco at the Slytherin table just as quickly.

And then it was his turn. McGonagall called out "Potter, Harry!" and the hall fell silent instantly, only for murmuring and whispering to begin a second later.

"_The_ Harry Potter?"

"I thought he'd be a lot taller."

"Look, you can see his scar."

Ignoring the talk, Harry sat down on the stool and McGonagall plopped the Sorting Hat on top of his head.

"Ah, Mr. Potter," the Sorting Hat spoke into his head. "Interesting…. Hm, very difficult, yes... Any House would love to have you, and you would fit well in all of them. Plenty of courage I see, an air of hidden intelligence suppressed by your relatives. You don't like them much, I can't blame you though, dreadfully negligent humans they are. Oh, and what's this?"

"What's what?" Harry asked back.

"You have ambition, such a thirst to prove yourself, but I see something within you, a rare gift."

"What gift?" He asked curiously.

"You can speak to snakes," the hat responded.

"Only once," Harry explained. "Is that not normal?"

"It's very rare indeed. Salazar Slytherin is the most well known wizard to speak the language of snakes, and several of his descendant's have had the talent as well. "

"Does that mean I'm related to him?" Harry asked with trepidation.

"No, but I would be a fool to see all the evidence before me and say you are not destined to be a part of his House. You will do great things, Mr. Potter, and the House that will help you achieve that greatness is SLYTHERIN!"

* * *

_Author's Notes: Read my profile for more information and my current projects. There will be no real pairing for this story for a long time, so don't be fooled by Harry/Pansy. I have several chapters completely for this fic so far. It's not just a canon rewrite, but it takes time to properly build up the story. I want this to be different that Mira Mirth's and VotN's stories, and I am trying to write something that I enjoy writing and how I think Slytherin!Harry should be, without going to the extremes._

_As always, I am not a perfect writer, I am prone to grammar and spelling mistakes no matter how many times I edit, or send it off to a beta. Please tell me anything you see. Also, feel free to point out paragraphs that seem sloppy, or sentences that seem poorly worded. I am always trying to improve my writing._


	2. Chapter 2

Making his way to the Slytherin table after McGonagall changed his colors, the silence was deafening. But after taking a few steps, the Slytherin table broke into polite applause while the other tables looked on in sadness. They wanted the Boy-Who-Lived in their own House.

Taking a seat next, after what felt like an eternity of walking, to the previously sorted Slytherin, Pansy Parkinson, Harry took a few seconds to look up at the staff table while the next name was called out ("Smith, Zacharias"). He recognized Dumbledore sitting at the middle of the table, his robes reminiscent of his chocolate frog picture. There was Hagrid of course, and the Defense teacher he met briefly at the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell.

Harry felt slightly uneasy when looking at the man, perhaps due to his scar twitching with pain briefly. A sour looking pale man sat next to him, and going down the table there was a larger lady, a midget, an attractive lady in her early twenties, a crazy looking lady with huge glasses, another attractive lady in her twenties, a guy that looked like a serial killer and a few other's just as odd looking as the rest.

The Sorting was winding down as the last few students got sorted, the last person, the pale girl from the platform with the beautiful mother, Blaise Zabini, sat next to him. Perhaps pale was the wrong word, she was no paler than half the other kids at the Slytherin table. Many of the kids in the room, not just in Slytherin, looked like they spent far too much time inside, probably inside posh houses, not having to do any strenuous work. That's the impression Harry got, and from his imagination, magic could probably replace a lot of menial tasks that humans usually have to do. But that just meant that he was not afraid to get his hands dirty if necessary, although he was unsure if that was an advantage or disadvantage at this point at this time. He wanted to fit in, and from the very start, it was obvious that he was the odd man out.

Looking down at his empty plate made him realize just how hungry he was, but it also served to take his mind briefly off the strange world he found himself emerged in. His stomach rumbled as an unneeded reminder.

As if reading his mind, Dumbledore stood up as McGonagall took her spot next to him, to greet everyone.

"Welcome," the old wizard said, "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before the banquet begins, I would like to say a few words. Nitwit! Oddment! Blubber! Tweak! Thank you, and enjoy the meal!"

"Is he crazy?" Harry asked Blaise, but any answer she might have given got lost in the appearance of a magnificent feast. The gold platters in front of him filled up magically with different types of meat, bowls overflowed with any vegetable imaginable, baskets of bread, bacon, potatoes, ketchup, gravy, pudding, butter, and as many plates he didn't recognize at all. It was more food than he had seen in his whole life, combined. Even his relatives would be in awe, but perhaps it would be Dudley's version of Heaven.

Taking his cues from the rest of the table, Harry carefully piled his plate up with a bit of everything. He didn't want to rush and come off as a starving, underfed orphan, but he also wanted to take his time, try the new foods, and enjoy what would be the best meal of his life.

But Harry couldn't help but notice how neatly everyone else at the table ate. The girls all around him had perfect posture and used the correct utensils and ate their food carefully and with precision. Precession was a weird word to use in his mind, but he got the impression that every move they made was cultivated from a young age, just like Dudley had been cultivated from a young age to eat anything that moved. They did not rush, and they did not gorge themselves. Harry slowed down on his eating to not come off as a slob, but Crabbe and Goyle were doing a fine job of that on their own, disgusting the girls and him alike.

All the food was very good, perhaps the only thing Harry didn't take an instant liking to was the juice. He couldn't identify it, and after a few sips, he opted for water instead. He may not have been as neat about it as the others, but he was far more satisfied.

One thing he noticed after he finished was that the Slytherins were a rather subdued lot. There was some talking, but in comparison to the noise coming from the other tables, it was clear that the Slytherins were the odd House out. He didn't know why, but he got the feeling that most of the people already knew each other. Draco in particular seemed to be on friendly terms with nearly everyone, making jokes (at other people's expense) with Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle along with several older students.

No one talked to him, and everyone at the table realized it. No one knew what to say to him or what to make of him. He was an unknown element. Everyone knew _of_ him, and already had their own opinions formed years ago, but no one _knew_ him.

Pansy was the first to break the ice with him though. It was only because it was hard to not talk to the person sitting directly next to her. "So Potter, how did you get into Slytherin?" she asked. "Everyone here would have bet you would be Gryffindor. That's what your parents were."

"I've never met my parents," responded Harry. "I don't know anything about them."

Pansy stared right at him, unblinking. "How could you not know anything about them? The Potters are one of the oldest families in England."

"I grew up with my Aunt and Uncle, from my mother's side."

"Muggles?" Pansy asked with distaste. Everyone around them was listening in on the conversation, even if they didn't outwardly show it, but the subtle reactions from everyone was enough to tell Harry that they had no idea who he was living with or where.

"Yeah. They loathe magic. I didn't even know I was a wizard until I got my Hogwarts letter," Harry responded in a moment of revelation. "They tried to keep it from me, but they knew all along and didn't tell me. They hated my parents, and they hate me too."

It took much out of Harry to admit that his relatives hated him. Hate was a strong word, but admitting it made him feel better. "I can't say I like them much either. I didn't even know why I was famous until Hagrid took me to Diagon Alley, and I still don't really know why."

"Stupid muggles," Pansy commented, not really knowing what else to say. "And people question Pureblood motives to keep their bloodlines clean. You're proof enough. If the most famous kid in England can be mistreated by muggles, where is the line drawn?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm just glad I'm at Hogwarts now."

Before Harry could have time to contemplate what Pansy's point was, an older girl sat down next to him, back against the table. She had purple hair, and he vaguely recognized her as the girl from the train who told them to get changed into their Hogwarts robes.

"Hello, Harry Potter," she said huskily. She leaned in close to him, her breath fogging up his glasses. "I couldn't help but over hear your conversation about your relatives…"

Harry froze, having no idea what the hell she was doing. "And?" He gulped.

"We're related, you know, through our great-great-grandfather."

"Really?" Harry asked faintly.

"Mmm-hmm," she almost purred, placing a finger on his nose and with a playful, devious look in her eyes. "You could come live with me, if you want. We would have so much… _fun_ together…"

"Er, uh, I didn't get your name," Harry asked hastily. The situation was very awkward for him.

"Name's Tonks," she replied easily.

"Well, Tonks, I'm not sure…"

"Don't make a decision yet," she replied quickly, "but I expect to have one for Christmas. Mum would love to meet you."

Getting up off the bench, Tonks rubbed his head playfully before returning to her own friends.

"What the hell just happened?" Harry asked no one in particular.

"I think her offer was serious," Blaise commented. It was the first thing she'd said all day, her voice was quiet and unsure, but pleasant sounding.

"I'm not sure about that," Harry responded.

"Well, her mother is Draco's mother's sister, who is also the cousin to your godfather. But, there is any number of families that would take you in so you don't have to go back to those muggles."

Harry was slightly confused, and slightly wary that the people around him knew his family lines better than he did. He merely responded with "I'll keep that in mind," in an effort to not commit himself to anything without having better information. But, anything that got him away from the Dursley's was worth looking in to.

Dumbledore stood up after the majority of the students had finished eating. "I have just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. Just a few start of term notices…"

The Headmaster made sure he had everyone's attention before continuing. "First years should note that the Forbidden Forest is just that, forbidden, to all pupils. A few of the older students would do well to remember that as well. I have also been asked by our caretaker, Mr. Filch, to remind everyone that no magic is to be used in the corridors between classes."

The ancient wizard actually seemed to enjoy himself telling the young students about the rules, as if he knew that they would be broken. "Quidditch trials will be held the second week of the term. Anyone interested should speak to Madam Hooch, your Head of House, or your team captain."

Dumbledore's jovial nature turned a bit for his next announcement. "I must also warn everyone here. The third floor corridor on the right hand side is off limits to everyone who doesn't wish to die a most painful death. I suggest heeding these words, and ignore your curious natures. I do not wish to write to your families explaining why this happened. Consider this your only warning."

The hall completely stilled at his words, but a few of the students muttered "Is he serious?" to which no one had an answer.

"And now, before I usher you all off to bed, it is time to sing the school song." Dumbledore flicked his wand, and a golden ribbon snaked out, forming the words to the song.

"Everyone up now. Please choose your favorite tune, and off we go!"

What followed might have been the worst sung song in all of history. Everyone sang a different tune, from opera, to rock, to the Weasley twins at the Gryffindor table finishing a minute after everyone else with a solemn funeral march.

When they finished, Dumbledore was the one to clap the loudest, wiping tears from his eyes. "Ah, music, a magic like none other! Prefects, please show your Houses to your common rooms. Off you go!"

"This way to the common room, over here firsties!" Tonks called out, jumping up and waving her arm. She seemed quite exuberant and cheerful compared to everyone else. Then again, she was the only person in the school with purple hair. Harry could have sworn it was pink on the train though, but maybe it was a trick of the lighting.

The students all had anxious looks on their faces, all of them looking forward to see where they would be sleeping and spending their time for the next seven years.

"I am Tonks, and this is Selwynn," she said, introducing a glum looking boy. "We are your two seventh year prefects, and I'm sure you'll meet the other four later on. For now though, pay attention as I lead you to our common room entrance. It is in the dungeons, and it remains a secret to every other house and long as no one here tells anyone else where it is. This is the most direct route to the entrance, but I suggest learning all the secret passageways and longer routes in order to be unpredictable in your movements. Our House has some notorious history and rivalries with some of the other Houses, which I'm sure you will all discoverer in short order."

Harry paid close attention, brow furrowed in consternation, not liking the sound of age old rivalries formed decades before he was even born. But it is what it is, and he would try not to get caught up in it. He would stay low and keep out of the spotlight wrought by his apparent fame. It wasn't that long ago where Hagrid told him that there weren't many bad wizards and witches that didn't come from Slytherin.

Keeping close to the tall, purple-haired prefect, the first years followed Tonks as she lead them down into the dungeons. Harry took careful note of landmarks, but there wasn't many. The stone walls looked identical, as did the torches, so he paid careful attention to every portrait they passed. They were mostly of dreary landscapes, first a swamp, second of a burnt out village, but he would have to remember that the inconspicuous blank wall that hid the secret door to the Slytherin common room was roughly sixty feet down the passage after taking a right from the statue relief of Grolich the Resolute.

After making sure she didn't lose anyone, Tonks explained how to open the door. "Prefects come up with the password to the common room, and it is up to each one of you to remember what it is. It can change at any time, although it usually only gets changed once a month. This month's password is _obscurum. _If you forget that, you're shit out of luck."

As she said the password, the blank wall in front of them folded in on itself, creating an entranceway to the common room reminiscent of the portal into Diagon Alley. Leading the way in, Tonks explained the basic house rules. "There will be no infighting outside of the House. Keep all disputes you have confined inside the House. You are all Slytherins first and foremost, and we must show a united front to everyone regardless of personal feelings. Whatever else you are at home does not matter, if you are a princess or a pauper, Mudblood or Slytherin's heir, you best live up to the House's honor, or we will take you down a peg. We will eat you alive. Everyone here has something to prove, we are the greatest Hogwarts House and you are the future. Don't ruin it for the rest of us."

After her little speech, a man approached from behind them. Harry recognized him from the professors' table - it would hard to forget such a sour looking face with greasy hair. "Thank you Miss Tonks, you may go join your…friends. I am your Head of House, Severus Snape. But you will refer to me as Professor or Sir. I am the Potion's Master here, and you will not find my class easy, but none-the-less, I expect nothing but the very best from everyone here. You will conduct yourself in every class with the best of behavior. If you lose points from any of the other teachers, I will also punish you. You will not bring dishonor to my House, and I fully expect the House Cup to be sitting in my office at the end of the year."

The sallow Professor paced in front of everyone, his cloak billowing behind him. "Do not bring attention to yourself. If you must do something… unsavory, make sure it cannot be traced back to you. If you see some suspicious behavior, go to the prefects. I will not police you, I expect everyone here to be mature enough to police themselves. But, if there is a dire emergency, you can contact me. It is my duty as the Head of House to make sure no one gets killed on my watch."

Harry blinked a few times in confusion. Was death really such a possibility at a school? Snape was the second teacher to talk like that.

"You will support each other. You will help each other. If one of us slacks in a class, it is up to you to get help from someone who is better at it, be it a classmate or an older student. But here is your first life lesson; nothing is free. You will find what I've said tonight helpful, but you will also find that the internal workings of the house change as often as the seasons do, and it is up to you individually to find your place in the world, your calling in life, and to discover the unwritten laws that govern this school."

The professor sudden stopped to face them all, his face masked in boredom. "Class schedules will be handed out at breakfast tomorrow. Curfew is at eleven, but I suggest you get a good night of sleep for your first day of classes tomorrow, and dress smartly. I do not want to have to take points off for slovenly appearances on the first day. You will have plenty of time to get to know your housemates during your time here. First impressions are everything."

Cloak pulled tightly around his body and not wanting to be around the first years any longer than necessary, Snape swooped out of the dungeons as quickly as he came.

Noticing everyone in the common room for the first time, Harry joined the others. One side of common room contained a cozy fire which everyone else gathered around on large, comfortable chairs. The stone walls were decorated in the house colors in an effort to make it look and feel like they weren't underground. A collection of tables rounded out the efforts to make the room livable.

The older student's got the chairs closest to the fire, whether or not that was because they were simply the first ones in the room, or because of some unseen hierarchy, Harry wasn't sure, so he shared a sofa with Nott and Zabini. There was still plenty of heat to be felt from the sofa, and not having much to say of his own, nor anyone asking him any questions, Harry merely listened to the older students recount their summer adventures along with one of the prefects was explaining to Tracey Davis what to expect in the classes.

But Harry, not having many summer adventures to talk about or friends to reconnect with, gave out a loud yawn. The day had been quite long and he was feeling tired after the massive meal.

He wasn't the only one though. Goyle was sitting in a chair, passed out with his head leaning straight back. It was him snoring that caused a prefect to act.

"Ok first years, get out of here. Boys' rooms are down the stairs and to the left, and girls' are up the stairs and to the right. The rooms are labeled."

Crabbe shook Goyle awake, but Harry was already going down the torch-lit hallway to his new room. Down the stairs and taking the hallway on the left, Harry read the doors as he passed. The first door had two placards – "_Vincent Crabbe_" and "_Gregory Goyle_", the second door also had two placards – "_Draco Malfoy_" and "_Theodore Nott_", and when Harry got to the third door, he realized that he was the odd man out, and just his name, "_Harry Potter,_" was on the door.

Sighing to himself, he opened the door. The room was quite large, easily twice the size of a normal bedroom, and many times larger than the cupboard under the stairs he used to live in. There was only one bed, one wardrobe and a desk, so the room had a somewhat empty feeling with him being the only occupant. His trunk was at the base of the bed, and after locking the door, he changed out of Hogwarts robes and into his sleep clothes. He would unpack the rest of his trunk the next day.

The bed itself was larger than any he'd ever slept in, although that wasn't saying much. Still, he couldn't imagine anything more comfortable than it at the current moment, and he fell asleep seconds after his head hit the pillow.

* * *

_Author's Notes: Not much to say. I'm trying to not go overboard on chapter lengths, keeping them in the 3-5k range. The scene in the common room may feel a bit cliche, but I avoided the whole 'first rule of fight club is we don't talk about fight club' style talk as best I could. And the whole dorm rooms not being one large room like Gryffindor's, while probably fanon, it serves to metaphorically show that Harry is alone, especially after he was so excited to make friends._

_Don't bother telling me that Tonks has already graduated by Harry's first year in canon, and was definitely not Slytherin. If you can accept Harry in Slytherin, you can accept her as well, and a fem!Blaise. Feel free to point out any grammar and spelling mistakes as well as general sloppy writing. I'm always trying to improve my ability._


	3. Chapter 3

Rolling over one last time after a short, restless night of sleep, Harry woke up slowly, opening one bleary eye at a time. With blurred vision, Harry groped around the nightstand until finally his hand grabbed his glasses. Sometimes they were a real inconvenience, even if they were a necessity, but they weren't even strong enough.

Putting them on, he had to brace for the disorientation for a few seconds. He looked at the room in confusion, briefly, before remembering he was at Hogwarts and very far away from the Dursley's. Upon remembering that fact, he sighed in relief and set about gathering his thoughts, clothing, and supplies for the day.

Discovering that the five first year boys all shared a lavatory at the end of the hall, he readied himself for the rest of the day much quicker than he would have liked to. He was very anxious to start learning about magic and separating himself from the world of the Dursley's. It was like winning the lottery; he would never have thought it possible. After meeting up with the rest of the Slytherins in the common room, they all headed up to Great Hall for breakfast in one cluster. It felt nice to actually belong to something and to be a part of a group.

While it was more of a symbolic effort in unification than anything else, it was clear to Harry that there were many smaller groups within the group, and he didn't fit into any of them from the start. There was no talk about family or what they did during the previous summer, they were mostly all already friends or at least knew enough and reigned in their curiosity. But that was nothing new to him, and since they he wasn't actively shunned, it was actually a step up from what he was used to.

The breakfast was great, perhaps even better than the previous night's dinner, but as Harry ate, his spirits sank a bit when he saw Ron come in with a group of first year's, chatting and laughing with them. It looked like he had formed new friendships just fine and he didn't even so much as glance in Harry's direction.

To say Harry was jealous would not be completely correct, but he did envy Ron's position at the current moment. Nothing was ever easy for Harry. He didn't think himself repulsive, or even unfriendly, but it seemed that he was unapproachable to some.

Not all the students arrived at the same time; many Hufflepuffs were already eating at a decent clip. The same went for the teachers. Dumbledore, clad in obnoxious blue robes, was talking to the only other professors at the table; McGonagall and one of the younger females.

Snape arrived shortly after his Slytherins, and the rest of the students trickled in the minutes following. Everyone looked quite happy to be at Hogwarts, despite the early hour. Perhaps it was the smell of the food, or maybe it was merely the opportunity to learn new magic. But for some, just being around friends was enough to be happy about.

Harry looked down at his new schedule, courtesy of Snape. His housemate's provided the all the commentary, and having minimal knowledge on the courses or teachers himself, he listened intently. It was quite possible that most of the teachers were old enough to have taught their parents, and most of the current classes had been taught for decades, if not centuries.

Taking in his schedule, he put what faces he knew to each class, and entertained himself by guessing who the others were.

"Potions first, with the Gryffindors," Draco commented from further down the table, mostly just talking to hear his own voice. "Should be fun, Snape will favor us."

"Charms with the Ravenclaws afterwards," Pansy Parkinson replied, looking down at her own schedule. "Flitwick is a former champion dueler, so that should be interesting…"

"And Transfiguration with Gryffindor again," Draco continued, "My father respects McGonagall, but he wouldn't tell me much about her."

Harry could see why McGonagall would be respected. She looked very much the part of a professional. Looking down at his own list again, he realized that most of his classes were with the Gryffindors. They only had two classes with the Ravenclaws and a single one, History of Magic, was with the Hufflepuffs. He wondered how anyone could have come up with such an unbalanced schedule. If there was one thing for certain though, it was that Astronomy was going to be his least favorite class due to having to go to the tallest tower every Wednesday night after dinner. He didn't see how Astronomy could even be important.

The first class, Potions, was immediately after breakfast, and the Professor's words from the previous night – "first impressions are everything," made him want to get to the class before the Gryffindors.

Of course, the Potions Master had a reputation that preceded him, and the Gryffindors as a collective whole did not want to spend any extra time in the dungeons than absolutely necessary, so the entirety of the Slytherins were in the classroom a good five minutes before anyone else. Snape must have had quite a reputation if even the first years were wary of him, but Harry would admit that he also didn't want to spend any more time in the cold, dark, and moist dungeons that absolutely necessary.

Their fears were not unfounded.

Scraping in merely a minute before the bell rang for the first time, the Gryffindors thought they had beaten the Professor in arriving. And as expected, they were wrong.

Swooping in from a corner shadow, Snape's imposing form floated in between the students, with cloak billowing behind him in an unnatural breeze. His pale face was outlined by greasy hair, and wearing nothing but black the man looked at home in the dark, dank dungeons. He exuded unpleasantness.

Harry, haven taken the only open seat next to Parkinson, watched as the Gryffindors shied away from the man. It was quite a phenomenon. Malfoy had paired with Nott, and Crabbe and Goyle would be working together as well. Perhaps they were smarter than they looked, but Harry didn't think so.

It was mildly entertaining, Snape's passive ability to make everyone cower. Not a single person dared to utter a word, not even the overconfident Draco Malfoy.

"Leave your wands packed," Snape said in a low voice, almost a whisper. "There will be none of that silly wand waving in here. Some of you may not even believe this to be true magic…"

Snape continued to pace, stealthily, up at the front of the room. He spoke in nearly a whisper, but everyone heard him loud and clear. Harry tried to take his eyes off various jarred pickled animals to pay attention to his Head of House, but he was only successful when Snape started talking about the potential of potions.

"You are all here, not by choice, to learn the subtle and exact art of potion-making. I will not tolerate insubordination, laziness, or sabotage. Potion mishaps can kill… so I suggest you follow all my instructions to the letter."

Harry spotted the bushy-haired girl from the train, Granger, writing every single word down, and wondered if he should do the same. But before he could inconspicuously pull out some parchment, Snape continued with his speech.

"Again, some of you will hardly believe this is magic, but for those of you who dedicate themselves enough, I will show you how to brew fame, bottle glory, and even put a stopper… in death.'

The man sneered at the entirety of the class while taking roll call before turning his attention to Harry.

"Potter!" The man called out loudly, startling everyone in the room. "Tell me what armadillo bile is used for."

Harry, having no idea, told Snape as much. "I'm not sure, Sir."

The Potions Master scowled. "It is an amplifying emulsifier, most commonly used to create a wit-sharpening potion. Perhaps you need some so you will stop being so distracted?"

Harry shook his head. "No, Sir."

"Luckily for you, we will not be working with armadillo bile today," said Snape with some malice before he turned to the rest of the class. "Who can tell me what the definition of Alchemy is?"

Hermione Granger's hand bolted into the air, nearly propelling herself out of her chair. "Sir, the definition is –"

"Quiet Miss Granger, I did not call on you!" Snape reprimanded. He wanted stop all insubordination before anyone got to many ideas. "Five points from Gryffindor. There will be no talking out of turn. Alchemy is a broad field, with Potions being just a small part. We take smaller magical components, combining them, changing them into something different. Hopefully better, sometimes worse, sometimes something completely new and undiscovered. The thrill of discovery is what draws many people to this field. Well, why aren't you copying this down!"

Everyone scrambled for their writing supplies(except Granger who already had hers out) so they could write down the bit of info about the bile and the potion. Harry hadn't quite figured out how to use a quill before Snape continued his speech.

"Today you will be brewing a potion to cure boils as I'm sure Madam Pomfrey will need some more after the first Herbology lesson… This is the easiest potion you will ever brew, so you all better get it perfect. Memorize the processes, remember the fundamentals. This is the most important day of class you will have with me this year, and everything you do from now on will build on this lesson."

Snape angry flicked his wand at the chalkboard, revealing the instructions and ingredients for the Boil Curing Potion. "I took the liberty of collecting all of your cauldrons. Ingredients are in the cupboard over here, and I expect a completed potion for every individual. You can work in pairs, but I better not see anyone slacking off, or I may give you detention. I don't think any of you want to spend your first weekend here scouring cauldrons clean by hand. What are you waiting for, go!"

That was plenty of motivation for Harry. Scurrying over to the ingredients cabinet, he reached it before everyone else, with Pansy following closely behind.

Harry cursed his lack of thoughtfulness in writing the ingredients down as it was hard to see the board from where he was, but luckily Pansy thought ahead, and upon seeing his predicament, she shoved the list into his hand.

He picked out the correct ingredients after that; six Flutterby Flower petals, a single Knarl quill, an ounce of ground Murtlap, and four rat teeth. He stuffed the ingredients into Pansy's arms one by one as he found them, who seemed none too dignified.

Following her back to their shared cauldron (hers, pewter grade 2), he read the first steps of the instructions out loud. "Bring one gallon of water to a boil. Then add one ounce of ground Murtlap. Stir carefully, anti-clockwise, for five minutes."

Looking back down at the cauldron, he realized that it was already lit. All the others were lit as well, but Harry didn't see Snape light all the fires with a single wave of his wand.

Parkinson shrugged before pointing her wand at the bottom of the cauldron. "_Incendio,_" she whispered, the incantation causing more flames to appear. The water started to boil quickly.

"Where'd you learn that?" Harry asked curiously.

"It's in the book," Pansy replied matter-of-factly. "We have it for a reason.

"Oh." The answer should have been obvious to him.

"The book is a supplemental. Snape put the instructions up on the board, but the book explains why everything is done the way it is. Like… why we stir anti-clockwise instead of clockwise, or what effects ground Murtlap adds to a potion."

"That makes sense." While the water was heating up, he turned to the very first chapter of the book and located the Boil Curing potion. It was only by luck that he had brought the book; he had packed it before he knew his schedule. The Boil Cure was the very first potion in the book, and it went on to briefly explain who discovered it (Helga Hufflepuff) and what some ingredients did such as ground Murtlap (base of the potion and heals the skin) and Knarl quill (fortifies the magic).

"The book _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ goes into more detail about the various ingredients we can use, but it's strictly a reference book. I would never think about memorizing it; there's probably a billion pages."

"That's good to know," Harry responded. He continued to read, but almost missed the next step.

"Pour the Murtlap in slowly, I'll stir," Pansy instructed.

Harry did as he was told, gently sprinkling in powder. Snape, still stalking through all the groups, inspected and criticized everyone's progress. He made no comment on Harry's start, instead opting to scold Ron Weasley. "Anti-clockwise, Weasley, Anti-clockwise! A point from Gryffindor!"

Ron, thoroughly embarrassed, turned a bright color of red, nearly blending in with his hair. He mumbled something under his breath, perhaps an apology, or perhaps a curse, but Harry couldn't quite make it out.

Draco was quick to follow up with a comment. "His family probably can't afford a clock to know what anti-clockwise is," he said in a stage whisper. Harry managed to hold in his laughter, but he was probably the only one. A small smile even crossed Snape's face briefly before it disappeared into a scowl directed at the whole class.

"This class is not a joke," he said seriously. "Do not form any bad habits now or you will not last until the finals."

"What's the next step?" Pansy asked, unable to stop her stirring, even briefly, to look.

"Add in six whole Flutterby Flower petals. Stir clockwise."

"Has it been five minutes yet?"

"I'm not sure," Harry responded.

"Well, what does the book say to look for?" Pansy asked again, impatiently.

Harry looked down and scanned the passage. "Oh, add in the petals once the mixture has become a light brown color," he replied, looking down at the potion. "Looks light brown to me. I'm going to add them."

Dropping the petals in carefully, he made sure to put them about an equal distance a part. He wasn't sure if it mattered, but it seemed like the proper thing to do. As soon as he put the sixth petal in, Parkinson reversed the stirring, causing the petals to swirl to the outside. "Quickly, what's the next step?" she prompted.

"Chop up the Knarl quill into sixteen equal pieces. Add them one at a time, still stirring clockwise, one every fifteen seconds. As soon as the last one touches the water, reverse stirring and add in the four teeth."

"Well, get to it." Parkinson urged, not wanting to mess up their very first potion.

Harry quickly referred to the diagram shown in the book before taking his silver knife out of his kit. He bisected the quill lengthwise, and then chopped those two pieces lengthwise as well. He needed to make those four pieces into sixteen, and they had to be equal, so he chopped them all at the same time, widthwise.

Snape, _still _pacing around the room, instructed the class on how to finish. "When you are done, you will clearly label a vial with your name. Again, everyone must turn in a potion. You will all be graded accordingly. Some," he said, peering into Ron and Neville's cauldron, "will do better than others. I don't tolerate careless mistakes, remember that."

Satisfied at his work, he placed the ingredients in a closer spot to the cauldron. "Every fifteen seconds," Parkinson reminded him. "That's about every five stirs."

Quickly memorizing her stir pattern, he carefully dropped the first piece into the center. The next fifteen seconds seemed agonizingly slow as he did not mess up, but as soon as Pansy's stirrer made its fifth circuit, the second piece was in the cauldron. Feeling confident that he had the rhythm, the rest of the pieces went in without issue.

"Remember, Potter, the Rat's Teeth," Parkinson reminded him once again as he neared the last of the Knarl quill pieces. Harry didn't need to be told twice, and as soon as the last quill hit the mixture, he dropped the teeth in immediately.

Pansy reversed her stirring once again, causing all the ingredients to mesh together. "What color are we hoping for?"

"Sunflower Yellow," Harry answered. Not having much else to do other than watching the potion slowly change from a brownish color to something lighter, he tidied up the work station. Sparing a second to look at how the rest of the class was doing, he was happy to see that no one else was quite as far as them.

Minutes passed by as the potion slowly changed from brown to beige to a murky yellow, and finally, after nearly an hour since they started, Sunshine Yellow.

"Quick, Potter, the vials!" Pansy ordered. Harry scooped up a handful of vials and brought them inside the cauldron. Pansy, sparing a minute of stirring to wield a ladle, filled up the vials, and immediately quenched the fire afterwards.

Harry got out a quill and inkwell, but he was still quite rubbish at using it. "Here, let me, Potter," insisted the young witch upon seeing his pitiful attempts at writing. She snatched the quill from his hand and quickly finished each name off with a flourish.

"Thanks."

Pansy ignored him and carefully carried the vials to the dour Potion's Master, paying extra attention to where she walked so she wouldn't trip. Snape plucked them out of her hands and raised them up to the light. "These are… acceptable," the professor assessed. "Five points to Slytherin."

Harry basked in the pride of having received points for his House, and responded to Pansy's smug look with one of his own. It was not a crime to be proud of one's work. And just for a second, a brief second, he saw a hint of respect, and acceptance, in Pansy's eyes.

Shortly after Snape had put away their potions, he began to prowl the class once more. He hadn't walk for a minute before he found something wrong with Hermione Granger's partner, Imogen Towler, and her technique.

"You are stirring much too fast silly girl!" he scolded. "The ingredients will never mix at that pace! Two points from Gryffindor."

Harry, having gotten a small peak at their cauldron, saw that the girl's furious stirring had the mixture nearly spilling out over the lip. Hermione looked hurt at the loss of points, but Harry thought it was fair.

Snape visited Harry's cooling cauldron next. "Bottle the rest of it up. Parkinson, I wish for you take them up to the Hospital Wing. It is on the way to your next class. Potter, stay after, I wish to talk to you."

"Yes Sir," they both responded. Wondering what Snape wanted to talk to him about (it couldn't be anything good), Harry made small talk with Pansy until the class was over.

"You seem to know a lot about magic already," Harry commented idly. "Are all purebloods as informed as you?"

Pansy, not wanting to get into a serious conversation, responded while twiddling her quill around and pretending to inspect her books. "That depends on the parents. Most of us didn't go to Muggle schools, for obvious reasons, so we were tutored by our parents, and others they trusted on a weekly basis, ever since we were young. Most of the Slytherins you see here were involved in those tutoring session. Obviously there was no way truly knowing what house we would end up in, and not all of us ended up in here."

"Really?" Harry asked curiously. "Who was part of this group? What did you learn?"

"Well, I'm not going to give you any names, as some of the people don't even come here, or don't want to be associated with us, but I've known Draco for years, along with pretty much everyone else. As for what we learned… probably not as much as what you imagine. Reading, writing, maths, history, stuff like that."

"So no magic?"

The young pureblooded witch shrugged her shoulders noncommittally. "Getting a wand when you turn eleven _is _tradition, and it's a precaution. Any younger than that and you risk problems. So while we never got to dedicate time to practicing wand magic, that didn't mean we couldn't learn about Herbology, Potions, Magical History, Runes, and anything else that didn't involve a wands. Of course, I'm not going to talk about the times where I nicked my father's wand, or the kind of spells we practiced in the summer _after_ we had our wands…"

"Wait, you practiced magic in the summer? I thought there was a law or something –"

Pansy laughed, drawing the attention of a few people near them. Some of the other students were now just finishing. "You mean to tell me that you never tried a single piece of magic when you got your wand? Hell, I bet even the Muggleborns were swishing theirs around in earnest trying out basic spells and shattering their parents beliefs in one sweep. I can't believe you never even tried. The Ministry isn't going to arrest a kid before they even get to Hogwarts for trying magic for the first time - that would be ridiculous."

Harry, listening to her words, realized how naïve he had been. _Of course_ he wanted to test out his wand the second he had arrived at the Dursley's, but he guessed he had taken Hagrid's warning too seriously. Still, if something went wrong, no one would have been able to help, while Pansy had everyone she knew. "I guess I'll just have to make it up to myself by learning extra spells while I'm here."

"You won't have any problems with that. I heard there's a Charms club, and sometimes there's even a dueling club. I don't know anything else about them though, but I'm sure they'll be an announcement or something."

"I'll keep an eye out, sounds like it could be fun," said Harry, a bit excitedly. He had never belonged to a club before, and it could be a nice way to make some friends and learn magic outside of class as well.

His thoughts started to drift back to the current class and their _acceptable_ potion. Everyone else _had_ managed to complete their potion as well, to varying degrees of success. Malfoy's and Nott's looked as good as Harry's, as did Greengrass's and Zabini's, and Snape told them to bottle extra's of theirs as well. Patil's and Brown's was the best of Gryffindor's while Neville and Weasley's were by far the worst, being a frogish green color rather than yellow. It looked more like a poison more than it did a cure.

The bell rang, causing nearly everyone to storm out of the dungeon as quickly as possible, everyone except for Harry. Pansy gave one look back at him before leaving, giving Harry a strange feeling of belonging.

Harry did not bother to get up from his workstation, nor did Snape bother to leave his desk at the front of the room.

"Potter," Snape drawled, testing the name on his lips. "What an interesting conundrum I have found myself in."

"Why's that, sir?" Harry asked.

"I do not know, frankly nor do I care, what you have heard about me, or heard about your father in relation to me. But I _am_ curious as to how you got into my House and not that of your parents."

Snape waited a few second for Harry to respond, but when none was forthcoming, he continued on.

"You look exactly like your father, but with Lily's eyes of course…" Snape's attention seemed to waver briefly, as if he were remembering some odd event in the past. Harry felt distinctly uncomfortable.

"But know this; Step a toe out of line and I will cut it off," the professor said in a quiet voice. "Get caught with your hand in a cookie jar, and I will cut it off. If your head comes up on the chopping block, I. Will. Cut. It. Off. Are we clear?"

Harry nodded his head slowly, too afraid to say anything.

"Good, now get out of my sight."

Harry, not needing a second prodding, grabbed his books and went for the door, but not before Snape had a few last words. "Oh, and Potter? Following instructions is the easiest thing you will ever do here. To truly learn and accomplish something, that requires innovation."

Giving a brief nod, Harry shouldered his bag and left the dungeon as quick as he could. He did not want to be late to his next class, Charms. Snape's words rang in his head though. He knew next to nothing about his father, but it was apparent that he and Snape were not friends during their time at Hogwarts. So much so that some of that dislike carried down to himself. That just made Harry more determined to prove himself.

Estimating that he only had about five more minutes to get to Charms, which was located in the complete opposite side of the caste four floors higher, Harry got a move on. He sped through the halls, looking for the quickest way up. He didn't want to lose the points he just earned because he was late to class, but he had no clue how to get there.

Running around a corner, Harry ran headlong into something that was both soft, hard, and giving at the same time. They collapsed in a pile of limbs, and a small groan escaped from his lips as he tried to come to his senses.

He opened his eyes to look at who he crashed into. The pink hair was unmistakable.

"Wotcher, Potter," Tonks greeted. "I hope you have somewhere to be, otherwise I'm not going to be happy that you just copped a feel."

"Uhg, sorry. I think I'm going to be late to Charms," Harry replied, gathering up his bags and getting to his feet. Tonks had nimbly gotten up to her own feet seconds after crashing, as if it were an everyday occurrence. "I didn't mean to…"

"Smash headfirst into my breasts?" Tonks supplied helpfully.

"Yeah, that." Harry replied lamely and slightly embarrassed.

"Well, Let's get you to charms then. I'm a prefect, so everything will be fine. Still, being late for the first day of class is not a good first impression. I know a few shortcuts."

Tonks took off down the hallway, and Harry had to run to keep up. Suddenly stopping, Harry nearly crashed into her again. Instead, Tonks grabbed a hold of Harry's robes and pulled him into a passageway completely hidden behind a portrait of twin witches.

"These steps will take you up to third floor near an unused Transfiguration classroom. There's another secret passage that will take you close to your Charm's class," Tonks explained. Harry's legs burned as he raced up the steps behind Tonks, desperate to not be late.

They reached the top of the steps, and following the brief straight passage, Tonk's pulled on the lit torch at the end. The wall slid in on itself, revealing the only usable third floor corridor.

"See that suit of armor over there? It's behind that. Just pull on the sword and you will see it. I have to get to my own class," Tonks said, before turning back the way they just came.

"Thanks," Harry replied into the darkness before walking up to the suit of armor. The sword was cleverly hinged to be a lever, but you would never have noticed it unless you knew about it.

Putting one hand on the pommel of the sword, and the other on the hilt, Harry pulled, hard. Harry must have been the first to use that particular secret passage this year, and it was obvious that the months of stagnancy had frozen the mechanism in place slightly. Still, the leverage of Harry pulling and his determination to not be late was sufficient to force the passage open. The entrance to the secret passage itself couldn't have been more than three feet tall, and recessed enough into the wall so casual passersby would not see it.

Harry, wasting no time, crawled into the passage way, and ran up the old stone steps. These steps spiraled up, and although he didn't count, it seemed as if he traveled nearly fifty feet higher than he would have thought he needed to go.

Finally arriving at the top of the stairs, Harry turned the knob on the wall, which itself looked to be made of wood. The door creaked up, and the young wizard was happy to note that the numbers on the door across the hall matched the one on his schedule. He had made it, with seconds to spare.

Taking once last look behind him at the secret passage, which was a floor to ceiling portrait of an imposing white robed man, Harry strolled into the classroom and saddled into the nearest empty seat. He gave one last sigh; crisis averted.

* * *

_**A/N** I apologize for waiting so long to put this chapter up, but I had a lot of stuff going on this week. The first 4 chapters of the story were already finished before I even published the first one._

_As for the story itself, I suppose you could say not much is happening right now, but as a proper story, it needs time. Harry isn't going to suddenly change over night. His life with the Dursley's was the same as canon's and the hat did almost place him in Slytherin as well, so his personality isn't going to change as extremely as some of you reviewers are suggesting. But, as time goes on, you will start to see parallels between Harry and Tom Riddle, change just takes time. I've already planted the seeds of motivation if you look at Pansy's and Snape's conversation._

_As always, please tell me of any spelling and grammar mistakes you may see. I am not perfect, and I am always looking to better myself as a writer._


	4. Chapter 4

_According to Gamp's Third Principle Exception to the Elemental Laws of Transfiguration, sustenance cannot be created or transfigured. It can be copied, or duplicated, and the taste can be altered, but food created through transfiguration methods only has as much nutritional value as its base material. Conjured food will have no nutritional value at all._

_Life cannot be created though such means either, only replicated, such as in animation. A transfigured pig, for example could be animated in such a way that it resembles and acts like a real pig perfectly, but if consumed, it will have no nutritional value above its base components, and it cannot breed either._

_Such transfiguration is not without uses however. Some that I think could be useful are –_

Harry tapped his quill to his chin, thinking of ways that transfiguring food could be useful. There were several that came to mind, but most seemed pointless to him.

Professor McGonagall had assigned the class a lot of homework for their first day. There were lots of rules one must learn before progressing much beyond what they did in class that day - attempting to turn needles into matches.

Harry got the change down, but he couldn't understand _why_ it worked. As he wasn't about to transfigure food, he didn't get the point the lesson was trying to impart in him. McGonagall assigned that particular law for a reason, and Harry was trying to figure out what that was.

Perhaps the point was what Snape had implied in Potions – there's more to magic than just waving a wand around and saying a few words. That made sense to him, and he had already seen a few instances of magic being used without saying a word. Snape had revealed the instructions on his chalkboard with a simple wave of his wand, and McGonagall transformed into a cat without saying a word, and transformed her desk a minute later into a pig wordlessly as well.

_That_ made sense to him, well, not the animagus part, which was cool, but the idea that you have to learn magic with the incantations before you can learn without them, just like you have to learn the rules of transfiguration before you can do any serious changing.

As Harry began to write down that idea, it couldn't hurt after all, his mind wandered back to Charms class. Professor Flitwick hadn't given them any written homework at all, just to read the prologue to their text book.

That Professor was strange, and Harry knew he wasn't the only one who thought that way. He was short, almost goblin-like, and very excitable. He had fallen off the stacks of books he stood on behind his desk upon reading Harry's name. No explanation was given for that, and the lesson went on, namely with how _not_ to use magic, and why it's so important to not mess up an incantation while doing the wand movements.

So far, Hogwarts had not been quite as magical as he hoped. He understood why, safety and all that, and the professors don't want the students to blow stuff up, but aside from McGonagall's animagus display, Harry hadn't really seen anything too exciting.

Sure, the talking portraits, secret passages, changing staircases, ghosts, suits of armor, and a bloody history was all nice and fascinating, but Harry couldn't help but want _more_.

Perhaps he was expecting too much too soon, and had not yet got to know the _real_ Hogwarts, but he had the impatience of youth.

As he finished up the last of his homework, Harry couldn't help but feel he was forgetting something. He got up from his chair in the common room and headed towards his own room. Several of the other students followed him with their heads as he walked away, and Harry couldn't help but wonder why so many students were inside on a Friday afternoon.

Putting his scroll of homework down next to his transfiguration book, Harry noticed a letter lying out on top. Picking it up and rereading it, he realized exactly what he had forgotten.

_Harry_

_I'd like it if you'd have tea with me on Friday. How's three sound?_

_-Hagrid_

The first thing Harry thought when he read the letter was that Hagrid's written English was a lot better than his spoken. Regardless, Harry had mailed back agreeing using one of the schools generic, brown, barn owls.

But now it looked like he was going to be late. He quickly put on his outdoor shoes and a cloak; one never knew when the British weather would change.

Hurrying out of the door, again under the scrutiny of his entire house, Harry swiftly made his way out of the common room. He couldn't say he was used to the attention. They just didn't understand him, and most of them didn't make the effort. Aside from a few of the girls in his year, no one really talked to him at all.

Speed walking though the dungeons, Harry made sure to keep close track of where he was going. He knew the passages just well enough to get to and from class using the main ones, but he would surely get lost if he accidently stumbled down a side passage.

There was a surprising amount of people chatting away in the Great Hall, but Harry didn't spare the time to stop. There were several people playing chess, some reading, some playing cards, and quite a few just doing homework or talking with friends, but none of that concerned him at the moment.

Harry didn't want Hagrid to think that he forgot about or snuffed him. Hagrid was a nice guy, the first person to tell him that he wasn't a freak - that he was normal, and a wizard. If normal and wizard could be used in conjunction…

Again, heads swiveled to follow his movement as he made his way to the front doors. They were just curious, that's what Harry kept telling himself. But he knew deep down they were judging him.

He hadn't even been at Hogwarts a full week yet, but there were already rumors and gossip surrounding him. Nothing bad, but nothing good either, just gossip, and mostly just asking the question of '_why_ _was he sorted into Slytherin?_'

For Harry, it was more entertaining than anything. Sure, the others may have made him a slight outcast, but who's to say the same thing wouldn't happen if he was sorted into any of the other Houses? As far as he was concerned, his House had very little to do with it, and that the students at large were just using it as an excuse. He had given plenty of thought into it, it wasn't like he had anything else to do. He only had so much homework to do, so many stimulating (dull) passages from exciting (boring) textbooks to read, or friends to talk to.

Pushing open the doors leading to outside, Harry discovered immediately why it seemed like everyone was inside.

It was storming, hard. Sheets of rain poured down from the sky, severely limiting Harry's visibility. It was extremely dark out as well, despite the sunset being nearly five hours away. Thunder echoed through the air and lightning flashed repeatedly, signifying that the storm wasn't going to stop anytime soon.

Spotting, just barely, what he knew to be the gamekeeper's hut down the hill in the distance, Harry pulled his cloak up over his head and headed towards it. He went as quickly as he could, not quite running as he didn't want to slip and break a bone. It would be hours before anyone looked for an injured kid outside in a storm.

As he got closer to the hut, he saw that it looked vaguely peanut-shaped, with a larger room on the front, and a smaller room on the back. He could see several wooden pens with shelters for various animals, likely chickens, as well as several rows of vegetables that were likely to be washed out.

He ran the last few dozen feet until he stopped in front of the door, partially safe from the rain underneath the overhanging roof.

Giving a few knocks on the door, Harry heard the moving of furniture inside the hut followed by a gruff call of "I'll be right there!"

Waiting a few more seconds for the door to open, the rain started to completely soak through Harry's cloak. He wished that there was a spell to make it water repellent, or if there was, he hadn't heard of it yet.

The door opened, and Hagrid peered out from inside, his massive form blocking out nearly all of the light from inside. "Oh, 'Arry, didn't think yeh come! Come in, come in, I'll put some tea on."

Harry quickly jumped inside, thankful to be out of the rain. There was a nice fire going, so he placed himself in the seat nearest to it in an effort to dry off. He didn't think all the fires in Hell would be able to dry his clothes, but he'd take what he could get.

"Why did you think I wouldn't come?" Harry asked, catching the giant of a man off guard.

"Oh, eh? The storm is why, eh, and everyone else is inside. I didn't think you'd want to come. Wouldn't blame yeh either."

The man wasn't a very good liar, but Harry was just thankful to be inside. "I didn't know it was storming, to be honest I was so caught up doing my homework I nearly forget."

Harry watched as Hagrid adjusted his leather blacksmith's apron to pull a huge kettle off the fire. "I knew yer parents, y'know. I'm not sure what yeh've heard about them, living with those muggles of yers. Great people, they were."

Looking around the inside of the hut, Harry was surprised by the lack of accommodations. It was quite basic, a large bed in the back of the hut, clothes and jackets hanging on hooks, meat hanging from the ceiling, various things drying above the fire, a large dog sleeping soundly, the table, a few chairs, and a rug. He also spotted a crossbow and Hagrid's pink umbrella next to a large pair of boots near the door, big enough to hold a baby dolphin apiece. Perhaps the most out of place thing in the hut was a lone shelf of books all about creatures that Harry didn't think were real, such as dragons, manticores, cerberus, unicorns, and nundus.

"I don't know anything about my parents, 'cept for a few things some of the students have said. My father played Quidditch, and my mum was quite intelligent. I've been told that I look like my dad but have my mum's eyes, but I've can't remember them and I've never seen a picture."

"Pity, that. I know some of their friends, I'll contact them and see if I can't get something…" Hagrid offered, looking more than a bit uncomfortable. "How yeh liking the classes so far?"

"Oh, they're great, but we haven't learned much magic yet."

Hagrid nodded his head, placing the tea tray on the table. Pouring both of them a cup, Hagrid responded, "That's to be expected. Can't have yeh blowing each other up without knowing the basics first. Yeh have a favorite yet?"

Harry thought about it for a few seconds. "No, I like them all pretty much the same so far, except for History of Magic I suppose. Binns is awfully boring. And Snape doesn't seem to like me much."

Hagrid gave a snorting sound but tried to cover it up by moving his chair around. "Professor Binns has been here since before I was, and nothing's changed since then. And Professor Snape doesn't much like anybody if I'm honest, but he's one of the best Potioneers in the country."

"It seems like he knows his stuff but he just seems abrasive towards everyone. I suppose it's effective though; there's been no mishaps yet."

"Don't hold any hope on the fer too long, heh," Hagrid laughed. "So tell me about yer friends. I hope you didn't abandon them to come see me in the middle of a storm."

Harry shifted uncomfortably at the question. "Well I guess the person I'm most friendly with is Pansy Parkinson, but I wouldn't really call anyone my friend."

"Really?" Hagrid asked in surprise. "Yer father met his best friends, Remus, Peter and Sirius on the train ride here, eh, and they became pretty much joined at the hip ever since."

"Well, Ron Weasley and I talked quite a bit on the train, but he hasn't said anything to me since."

"Have yeh tried approaching him?" Hagrid asked.

"What?"

"Well, you can't expect everyone to just come up to yeh and want to be yer friend, yeh have to do some of the effort yerself 'n go up to people you like and talk to them."

Harry frowned, realizing that Hagrid had a point. "You're right. If I want to be friends with someone, I should go to them, instead of waiting for them to come to me. I guess I could be intimidating, even if I don't try."

"Most kids probably don't know what to do or how to act around yeh, they've known yer name for years. I guess it would be like a muggle meeting that singing bloke, eh, what's his name? The one that died in the loo."

"Elvis?"

"That's the one. Wouldn't know what to do if yeh met him in person." Hagrid stalled the conversation by collecting some pastries from one of his cabinets and offered one to Harry. "Rock cake?"

"Sure."

Hagrid scarfed one of the mini-cakes down real quick, so Harry took a bite of his and immediately regretted it, nearly breaking his jaw on it "I guess that's why you call it a rock cake?"

Hagrid shrugged. "The recipe's from my mum's side of my family. I don't do much cooking for guests."

When Harry finally managed to break a piece off and chew it, he couldn't help be surprised at how bland it tasted. It wasn't good or bad, but it had no redeeming qualities that would make him want to take another bite.

But Hagrid took it all in stride, not taking any offense. Harry quite liked the man, he seemed almost like a kid himself. He'd probably make a good, or at least fun, camp councilor, if his position as Hogwarts' groundkeeper ever fell through.

"Yer parents wouldn't have minded which House yeh got sorted in," Hagrid said, surprising Harry by the topic, but correctly guessing his current thoughts. "They'd tell you to make the best of it, learn something and have fun. Yeh only go to Hogwarts once yeh know, and it's one of the most magical times of yer life."

Feeling a bit awkward, Harry could still appreciate what Hagrid was saying. He realized that it wasn't everyone else that he had a problem with, it was himself. He'd never had a friend before, although he was way too embarrassed to admit _that_. He never really thought he was approaching it the wrong way, but he did want friends.

Finishing the last of the tea and setting the cup back on the serving tray, Harry made to stand up. "Thanks for the tea Hagrid, but I should probably head back up to the castle now."

"Right yeh are. Thanks for comin' and talkin' with me."

Opening the door, Hagrid commented "Doesn't look like the storm's lettin' up at all. Here, let me charm your cloak for yeh, keep yeh dry."

Hagrid grabbed his umbrella, which was oddly appropriate for the situation, and cast a few charms on Harry's clothes. "Now yeh don't go telling nobody about this, alright? Not supposed to do magic, strictly speaking."

"Of course," Harry replied quickly, stepping out in the rain. The water didn't seem to stick to his clothes at all, sliding right off as if it was oil. He wish he had that spell on the way down to the hut, but better late than never."Thanks Hagrid, that's quite useful."

"Don' mention it. Better escort yeh up to the castle though, just to be safe. Dumbledore'd have my head."

Oddly enough, Hagrid didn't actually use his umbrella/wand as an umbrella, and if anything, the storm was even worse than it was before. The walk took much longer than it should have, especially since it was uphill, but once they got inside, Hagrid had a few last words.

"I got some things ter see to, but next time yeh come down fer some tea, I better hear some stories about yeh and yer friends causing some mischief, yeh hear? First year is no time to be sitting inside a stuffy old castle all day long by yerself. Now yeh go along now and take care of yerself, 'Arry."

"Bye Hagrid, and I will. And thanks for the tea," Harry said, waving good bye. He thought about visiting his only other friend, Hedwig, but decided to head back to the dorms.

A few minutes of walking later, Harry found himself in his room tossing his damp clothes into a basket in the corner. Every few days the clothes in there would disappear, and the next day they would be clean. He had no idea what the magic was, but it was quite convenient.

Taking Hagrid's advice, Harry made his way to the common room where a couple dozen students decided to linger. Harry figured that they must prefer the company of their own House rather than mingling with the rest of the school. So did Harry, to an extent - he was more comfortable with them because he spent more time with them than the other students.

Spotting Draco and several others sitting around one of the antique wood tables chatting and laughing, Harry made his way over. There was an open seat between Malfoy and Bulstrode. As he got closer, the voices got quieter, and he had the distinct impression that they had been talking about him. Deciding he didn't much like the boy anyways, he changed his plan.

Harry, pretending like he wasn't going to sit down anyway, smoothly started walking to another open seat next to another of his classmates across the room, Tracey Davis. He didn't know much about her, but then again, he didn't know much about anyone. He wasn't privy to much gossip that didn't involve himself.

As he approached her, Harry could barely just read the title of the magazine she was reading; _The Quibbler_. But before he could reach her spot near the fireplace, someone tugged on his sleeve.

Turning around, Harry spotted the prefect, Tonks, sitting with a few of her friends, all of them hiding huge grins. "Join us Harry. We were just doing a crossword puzzle, and you look like the person who could help us with an answer."

Harry, caught off guard and not recognizing the title _Teen Witch Weekly,_ but recognizing that nothing good could come from a magazine with a title like that, hesitantly agreed. "Er, alright then."

Chewing on the end of her quill, Tonks scanned the puzzle in front of her for a specific question. Upon finding it, she wasn't able to hide a grin when she asked "A four letter word for a male rooster that starts with 'C'."

Realizing it was a trap, Harry turned his back on the pink-haired prefect and her unknown friends and nearly ran away from them. Ignoring the giggles and outright laugher behind him, he didn't stop walking until he was sitting next to Tracey.

Looking up from her magazine, the young brunette quirked an eyebrow at him. "Can I help you?"

Harry shrugged, hiding the close call he just had with Tonks. He was convinced that she was crazy. "Reading anything interesting?"

Tracey shrugged in return. "Going through the jokes. Want to hear one?"

"Sure."

"Ok. Why did the Hufflepuff charm her hair yellow?" Tracey asked, holding back a snicker.

"I don't know, why?"

"To look intelligent."

Harry's face broke into a grin. "Good one. Are there any more?"

"This magazine is full of them. It used to be a daily newspaper, but the editor's wife died recently, so now it's just a weekly thing. It's still quite a humorous read, and shouldn't really be taken seriously, no matter what someone else might say."

"Could I read it when you're done?" Harry asked.

"I suppose. But we could play some chess if you're that bored."

"Am I that obvious?" Harry asked, letting go of a sigh.

"You paced the whole room before sitting down over here," Tracey said, surprising Harry with her passive awareness.

"True. I finished my homework and have nothing else to do."

"I'll go get my chess board then," Tracey responded, getting up off her chair.

"I've never played before though," Harry told her. "I don't know how."

"It's easy to learn," Tracey told him, looking over her shoulder as she walked towards her room, "but impossible to master."

Harry wasn't so sure about that.

* * *

**_A/N:_** _I suppose I held onto this chapter about a week longer than necessary. My apologies, it's not even that long. The brief Draco scene has been through a few iterations, and may go through another. Other than that, the chapter is pretty much full of uncomfortableness with Harry trying to find his place in his House. Next chapter should be about 5k words, maybe longer, but I do plan on uploading the next chapter of Root of All Evil in the next few days._

_As always, please inform me of grammatical and spelling errors. I tried to not go overboard with Hagrid's dialogue, but I am not a perfect writer and I'm always trying to improve._


	5. Chapter 5

_This chapter is long overdue, but it's time to kick this story back into motion. If you see any grammar or spelling errors, please point them out._

* * *

Monday had never come so quickly for Harry. Two weeks into the school year and it only felt like mere hours. There never seemed to be a dull moment, even when he was alone and bored.

Walking into the common room, Harry saw there was quite a commotion on one side. There was a lot of whispering and everyone was gathered around the notice board. Harry could just barely see Tonks hanging a piece of parchment up, and that was only because of her bright pink hair, which was done up in spikes.

She was the only student in the school that Harry had seen so far, although he couldn't have possibly seen everyone yet, that portrayed herself as a rebel. Or at least, that what Harry labeled her as. It was clear that she was making some sort so statement, but Harry didn't have a clue to what it was. Harry quite liked her; she was very funny, quick witted, and very smart. She was quite pretty as well, once you got past the weird hair, but Harry hadn't seen any boys around her that she would call a friend who wasn't also a prefect. It was easy to see how she got picked to be a prefect, and even through all the day to day mischief she caused, she was very well liked by staff and students alike.

Whatever she had hung up on the notice board had gotten the attention of practically everyone in Slytherin, and naturally, that made him curious as well.

Spotting Tracey Davis near the back, trying to peer over everyone else's head, Harry walked over to her side. "What's going on?" He asked, just as interested as everyone else.

"I'm not sure. Half the school seems to be crammed in our common room," Tracey said. Harry quirked an eyebrow at her, amused at her definition at 'half the school'.

"Well, you're small, sneak through the crowd," Harry suggested.

Tracey huffed at him, blowing a strand of hair out of her face. "I'll have you know that I _am_ taller than you, thank you very much. You sneak in."

"Fine. Watch and learn," Harry taunted. "I suggest taking notes.

Harry, tapping the third or fourth year's shoulder in front of him, quickly squeezed passed him as he turned to look. Then, pressing himself sideways, he wiggled past another student, who seemed none-the-wiser.

He did this for several minutes, squeezing and sliding through all the older students until he was at the notice board. When he finally got there, the interest had all but died down and only a few of the first years were staring at it. Everyone else had gone back to what they were doing.

"Good one, Potter," Tracey said laughing. "Sometimes, the best course of action is to just wait. Now look at you, you are a disheveled mess."

Harry, slightly embarrassed and a bit perturbed, grumbled under his breath.

"Well, you going to read it for us or not?" Tracey asked, motioning to the rest of the first years who also couldn't get through to the board, namely Malfoy, Nott and Parkinson. Greengrass didn't seem to care at all, and she continued to sit on one of the couches, mostly likely reading a textbook on astrophysics or maybe _The Art of War_.

"It doesn't say much," Harry said, reading through the posts until he found the one that pertained to them. "Broom flying lessons start tomorrow before lunch."

A giddy look came across Malfoy's face. "Good, I've wanted to fly all week, but father wouldn't let me bring my broom."

"Come on, Malfoy," Nott said. "You know first years can't bring brooms. If you were caught with one, that would look bad for your father, what with him being on the Board of Governors and all."

"Obviously," Malfoy retorted. "That doesn't mean I have to like it though. What's the point of being in a position of power if you don't use it?"

"For a broom?" Nott asked with a laugh. "Not bloody likely. And besides, there's no point in having a broom if you're not on the Quidditch team anyway."

"Whatever," Draco dismissed. "I can't wait to see all the Mudbloods bumble about trying to figure it out."

"It should be funny."

* * *

All anyone could talk about that day was their upcoming flying lesson. Even Harry was mildly excited to fly, although he was somewhat put off by the whole 'riding on a thin piece of wood' thing. It seemed quite old fashioned and stereotypical.

So when the time finally did come for the lesson, everyone was giddy with excitement, well nearly everyone. Of course, it did not come as a surprise to Harry to see that their lessons would be shared with the Gryffindors.

The chosen spot for the lesson was seemingly picked at random, and was nothing more than a flat piece of land a hundred feet from the castle. Perhaps the Quidditch pitch was too far away to make it to and from in the allotted class time.

Standing in the middle of two rows of broomsticks was an older lady, who exact age was indeterminable. She had a vaguely hawkish face, a slight beaked nose and her eyes even seemed yellow. Placed around her in even increments were two dozen or so of the most dilapidated brooms Harry could imagine. Some of them looked like they had been taken directly from the forest or maybe had been used to sweep a floor for the past decade.

"Gather around, students!" The flying instructor called out. The two houses split up automatically, Gryffindors taking one line of brooms and facing off against Slytherin. "I am Madam Hooch. I referee the House games here, as well as the occasional Junior League game. I also oversee activities such as these flying lessons as well as free time on the Quidditch pitch. Whenever a Quidditch team wants to practice, they have to schedule it through me. Now, everyone pick out your broom, and hold your hand over it like this."

Madam Hooch placed her hand out over a random broom in a somewhat parallel fashion. "Now the magic in the broom responds to the word 'up'. But, when you command your broom, you have to put feeling into it. It's not going to respond to you very well if you are unwilling, or scared, to fly. It will sense your fear and react accordingly. Now then, on my signal, you will all give it a go. If you do manage it, then you are not hover any higher than six inches off the ground. If you disobey this rule, I will see to it that you are adequately punished."

After demonstrating the 'up' command with the broom successfully, the other students began to command their brooms as well, with varying degrees of success. Malfoy's jumped to his hand right away, perhaps indicating that he had actually spent as much time on a broom as he claimed. Several others had instant results as well, or at least humorous ones. Ron Weasley's broom jumped up fast and smacked him in the face while Longbottom's and Granger's failed to do anything but twitch.

Parkinson didn't have much better results, and Harry didn't put her down as one to be scared of flying, but she definitely looked nervous. Surprisingly, Daphne Greengrass's broom responded to her perfectly, and she was on it hovering precisely six inches off the ground.

For Harry, it took two tries of the command to get the broom in his hand. The first time when the broom activated surprised him greatly, messing it up, but the second time went fine.

"Weasley," Draco called out from a few spots down to Ron who was conveniently right across from him.

"What do you want Malfoy?" He called back.

"You must feel right at home with that broom. Or is it actually an upgrade to yours?"

Harry, like everyone else, turned to watch the confrontation. He spotted Ron's broom, a particularly decrepit piece of wood that was somehow still magical. It was no wonder Madam Hooch said not to fly higher than six inches, Harry didn't think that broom could handle it.

"Shut it, Malfoy,' the red-headed Gryffindor growled angrily through his clenched jaw.

Whatever Malfoy was going to say next was lost as Neville's broom shot off into the air, carrying to poor kid with it. It was quite sudden, but everyone's attention immediately swiveled in the boy's direction.

For what seemed like a small oversight to Harry, Hooch did not have a broom of her own, having just borrowed one of the others previously, nor did she commandeer one of the students, instead she opted to yell from the ground. "Come back, boy! Come back this instant! You're going to get yourself hurt!"

Neville didn't seem to hear her over the sound of his screams, but even if he did, he didn't have a grain of hope flying back to the ground, not with the way he was flailing about.

The first year Gryffindor continued to spiral upwards into the air, unable to figure out how to come down, or too scared to even try. Madam Hooch continued to yell at him, still forgetting that she could use her wand, and Draco started to taunt him.

"Look at that idiot go!" Draco cheered. "Five sickles says he breaks his legs."

No one took him up on his bet. Everyone, Harry included, thought that Neville would come down like the flying instructor wanted, just not in the way she envisioned.

And when it did happen, it happened in a way no one saw coming. It was like watching a train wreck in motion; it was so awful, you couldn't help but watch.

Straight up he flew, his flight path was like a corkscrew, and as he peeked, he plummeted fast, spiraling quicker than the eye could follow, until body hit ground and screams permeated the air. It all happened in just a few seconds, but it was something no one would forget for months.

Everyone winced as Madam Hooch rushed over to help the child, but the rest of the students were powerless to do anything but watch. "Oooh, a broken wrist," Hooch concluded, carefully inspecting the injury. "Madam Pomfrey will fix you right up."

She helped Neville up to his feet and made sure he cradled his broken wrist to his chest. "The rest of you," she called out to the class. "Are not to touch a broom as I take Longbottom up to the Hospital Wing. Or I will have you expelled faster than you can say Quidditch!"

Whispers broke out furiously, but oddly enough, no one seemed concerned that one of their classmates got hurt. Most of them were excited in fact, as it was not a common occurrence to see someone dive-bomb the ground and get injured.

"You think he'll be alright?" Harry asked Tracey.

She shrugged her shoulders. "Magic will fix him right up, and then he'll be back here, to entertain us when it happens again."

Not having a response, Harry stayed quiet and observed the children around him. Draco was walking over to the spot where Neville Longbottom had smashed into the ground. Maybe he wanted to see if there was blood anywhere, so they could laugh some more.

Instead, he found something different. Draco bent down and picked up something round and vaguely translucent. Recognition dawned in the blond-haired boy's eyes.

"Look, it's that Remembrall that Longbottom got a few days ago," Harry pointed out. The girls around him voiced their recognition.

Then, Ron Weasley stepped out from his group. "Give it here, Malfoy" he said. Their little rivalry was already getting pretty old.

"Oh? And what are you going to do about it?" Draco taunted. The anger seemed to be completely one sided.

"I'll force you to give it to me," Weasley said in a dangerously low voice. The red-head's demeanor noticeably shifted.

"Fine then," Draco smirked. "You'll have to catch me though."

Draco mounted the broomstick at his feet and glided up into the air effortlessly. He wrapped one arm around the handle and used the other to mock Ron, motioning for him to 'bring it'.

Growling, Ron picked up his own broom, and showed that he, too, knew how to fly. The old school broom was rickety, even more dilapidated than his own broom at home, which was at least well cared for, and it wobbled a bit in his hands. Carefully though, he arrived at eye level with Draco.

"Hand it over, Malfoy," Ron challenged, extending an open hand.

"Come get it! " Draco retorted, doing a lazy loop in the air.

Ron's eye's narrowed, and a second later, he lunged and Draco with his broom. Cheers rose up from both sides of the students – they were sure getting some good entertainment.

Draco twirled off to the right, dodging Ron with several feet to spare. "You really want this, huh?" Draco commented.

Another growl escaped from Ron's mouth, but before he could lunge again, Draco took the Remembrall and threw it over the lake. "Well then, go get it!"

The glass sphere arced through the air and sailed downwards towards the water, but it was too far away. Ron made a token effort of going after that, but chalked the effort up as a lost cause. No one could have caught that, not with a school broom.

Landing, Ron threw his broom down in frustration. "Darn it!" he cursed, much to Hermione Granger's chagrin. "You'll pay for that, Malfoy!"

"Really?" Draco asked in a mocking tone. "No matter how many times you say that, it will not happen."

Frustration was evident in Ron's voice. "Fine! I challenge you to a duel!"

Draco's eyes lit up. "I accept," he quickly said with his trademark smile. "Who will your second be?"

"Neville. He will want revenge for you tossing his Remembrall."

"Good," Draco said as he looked around at the other first years. An unspoken communication occurred between him and the quiet boy in their year, Theodore Nott. "Nott will be my second. Obviously, this should occur at night, after dinner. How does Midnight sound?"

Ron licked his lips; slightly put off that Malfoy seemed so calm. The surrounding students all looked on in interest. "Good. In the Trophy Room at Midnight, next Friday."

"Agreed." The two rivals shook hands, sealing the deal. Harry was slightly awed at the fact that two people, who seemingly hated each other, both knew the same ingrained rules of dueling protocol. What no one realized though, was that they just agreed to have a duel during the Witching Hour.

A few minutes of loud chatter passed before Madam Hooch came back out, to break them up and dispel any rumors, and well as to quell everyone's fears. "Longbottom will be just fine in a few days, and it will be as if it never happened. It was a fluke accident, if you all just pay close attention to my instructions, something like this should not happen. Now, everyone to your brooms. There is still some time left in the class."

* * *

An hour later everyone was back in their common rooms. Harry felt comfortable enough to take a seat with the rest of the House, even partaking in some of the conversations. He was no longer deathly intimidated by the radically different world he found himself in, and instead, was quite curious about it. The dueling protocol sparked his interest, and he was always straining his ears to hear something new.

"Well… that was interesting," Harry finally commented after a few minutes of contemplative silence.

"Indeed," Draco replied. The two didn't really get along, but talking didn't hurt. "I hope he shows up. I'd like to see what kind of magic he could have possibly learned."

Harry didn't think Ron knew much of anything, if their time on the Hogwarts Express was any indication, but he wasn't going to say that. "Half the school probably knows of the duel, so if he doesn't show up, everyone would know that."

"He'll show up," Tracey agreed. "He's the type that won't back down from a challenge, and I think it's pretty obvious that he doesn't like you."

"No sweat off my back," Draco said with a hint of glee. "I won't mind wiping the floor with him."

"Just don't get caught," Pansy warned. "You could get expelled, and I'm not sure if even your father could get you out of that."

"Clearly, you underestimate his power. Regardless, I will not get caught. There is nothing to worry about. I will remind the Blood-Traitor of his place, nothing more, nothing less."

* * *

The days passed by, and there was a palpable tension in the air. Neville recovered quickly and was back in class the next day, and his normally shy demeanor was outlined with one of boiling anger, both at Ron for getting him into a duel, and at Malfoy for losing his Remembrall.

Anxiety was common amongst the younger years, and there were a lot of inquisitive whispers, speculating on the outcome. The older students just thought it was funny. None of them thought that the duelers knew any spells that could cause any severe lasting damage, so it was all a big joke to them.

The news of the duel had spread like wildfire, but even so, it was only talked about in secretive whispers. If the teachers knew of it, and they most surely did, they did not make any indication of it.

Eventually though, the day of the duel crept up. Harry didn't mind, not really, as it wasn't him fighting, but even he was falling in step to the hum of the upcoming event.

Draco's demeanor, which seemed so confidant the previous days, was now bursting at the seams, ready to expel his ego onto anyone who was willing to be near him. And there were a lot of people who wanted to be around him, even more than usual. They all wanted a bit of the potential glory for themselves, to be a part of the atmosphere as if songs and ballads would be written about the day.

Harry rarely saw Ron at all now, even less than previously, which wasn't very much at all. Rumor had it that his twin brothers were coaching him. But rumors are a fickle thing, Harry knew that very well. Still, it _was_ very entertaining.

As the time approached, everyone gathered in the common room, all with fake excuses. Everyone pretended like they had something to do, be it homework or writing a letter to home or something else. Games were played halfheartedly and conversations were light. It wasn't every day that a duel took place in the school.

Draco and Nott left the room silently, a few minutes before curfew. Harry figured that they planned to hide until the correct time, and by travelling before curfew, they wouldn't get in trouble if they got caught.

Time trickled by and not much happened in the interim. Harry couldn't make out much of any of the muffled conversations, but he noticed that some people didn't seem to care at all. Greengrass was nonchalantly doing some homework, probably the most recent assignment on inanimate to inanimate transfiguration, and Tonks was building a card castle out of an exploding snap deck. Her face was already soot covered from several failed attempts, but it was clear that she and her friends didn't give a damn about the activities of a first year.

Harry didn't care all that much either, but he was damned curious, and there was a difference.

Eleven ticked by, then a quarter past, and then eleven-thirty. Midnight hit, and a sudden chill crept up Harry's spine. A bad feeling, maybe, or perhaps something in the air changed. If anyone else noticed it, they didn't say anything.

It felt like the air suddenly got colder, even though in all actuality, it was getting warmer. Maybe, it was someone working a large piece of magic, sinister magic perhaps, but something was definitely afoot. Or maybe it was just the sleep deprivation getting to him. Harry was usually fast asleep by now, with classes starting early in the morning.

Minutes ticked by, and Harry only faintly noticed that no one was moving at all. Other than the heavy breathing of a few of the students, you could hear a pin drop or the sound of the second hand of the old, ornate clock on the wall, ticking away as Draco and Ron dueled.

But nothing happened. There was no signal saying something occurred, and no teacher rushing into the common room to say a student was slain or anything dramatic at all.

It was eerie.

Midnight flew by, followed by twelve-ten, twelve-twenty and twelve-thirty. And then it was one, and still, nothing happened. Weariness was overtaking a lot of people, especially the younger years. Yawning was common, and outright sleep had overcome more than a few.

And then all at once it happened.

A faint screaming could be heard, high pitched and frantic, and then after a few seconds of silence, the common room entrance burst open, and Malfoy and Nott flew into the room. They ran into the middle of the students before stopping to pant, hunched over. Something unexpected must have occurred.

"What happened?" Pansy Parkinson asked, concern evident in her voice. "Are you alright?"

"That was the scariest thing… I've ever experienced," Draco commented between breaths.

"And… Also the coolest thing ever," Nott finished.

"That it was," Draco said, taking a seat on the couch, but not before sharing a high-five with Nott. "Can you believe it, a Cerberus in the school?"

"Yeah," Nott said. "What are the chances of that? And before that there was the –"

"Wait," Daphne Greengrass spoke up, closing her book, her homework recently finished. "A Cerberus? A three-headed dog? Are you certain?"

The two boys both nodded their heads enthusiastically. "Twice as tall as a man, with massive teeth, and gallons of saliva. It _was _scary, but it seemed to be tethered up and couldn't reach us."

"What, exactly, is a Cerberus?" Harry asked, surprising even himself. It was rare to see Daphne take interest in a conversation at all, but to Harry have join in as well, it was nearly a miracle.

Daphne had a quick answer. "Legendary beasts, Cerberus are notorious for their roles of being guard-dogs. They are dangerously vicious and extremely resilient, which begs the question..."

"Why would there be one in the school?" Half the students asked.

"This didn't happen to be in the third floor corridor that Dumbledore was telling us about, right?" Harry asked, drawing some of his own theories.

"Well, we were sort of just running, but I think it could have been," Malfoy answered after a few seconds of thought. "That would make sense… The old man did say you could die in there, and it was a distinct possibility for a few seconds, at least until we came to our senses."

"Did you see it guarding anything?" Daphne probed. "They are guard-dogs, so it must be there for a reason."

"What is this, an interrogation? No, I didn't see anything, I was too busy staring at its bloody heads!" Draco exclaimed.

"I was once told that after Gringotts," Harry commented, "Hogwarts is one of the most secure places in the country. Perhaps this is part of the reason."

"It's interesting you say that," Nott said, speaking in a loud whisper, as if he was about to say something taboo. "There _was_ an attempted theft in Gringotts recently. It's all the Daily Prophet can talk about."

"Really? What was stolen?" Harry asked.

"Nothing," Nott replied. "Which is the curious bit. The vault was apparently emptied earlier that day."

Harry's eyes narrowed in thought. He was getting a bad feeling about this. "Do you have a copy of the paper? I think it's important."

"Sure. One minute."

Nott left and came back a minute later from his room, holding up a copy of the Daily Prophet. Harry skimmed through it fast, and sure enough, his suspicions were confirmed. The robbery occurred on the same day that he and Hagrid were there, and Hagrid just happened to pick up an important package for Dumbledore. Harry was smart enough to put two and two together to realize that the Cerberus must be guarding that package. The only question is –

"What could it be guarding?" Harry wondered out loud. "There's not a single hint."

Harry had more information than the rest, and he wasn't about to share. Information and knowledge was power, after all. He knew the object was small, and must be very valuable, probably very rare, and probably very old. Harry didn't know anything that fit that description that would be so desirable to wizards, so desirable to the point that someone tried to steal it from the bowels of Gringotts itself, and that Dumbledore would risk hiding it in a school full of children and using a massive three-headed dog to guard it.

Harry was curious, so very curious.

"So, how did you end up in the third floor corridor?" Harry asked, spurred on by the sudden mystery. "The trophy room is nowhere near there. What happened with the duel?"

"Yeah, did you wipe the floor with Weasley?" Pansy asked with a smile. Draco could do no wrong in her eyes, and they had practically known each other since birth.

Draco and Nott both shrugged their shoulders. "He never showed up. Didn't hear a peep from either him or Longbottom."

"So what happened then?"

"Well," Nott said slowly, taking over the story. "Strange things started to happen. There's a lot of trophies in that room, and a hundred plaques hanging up on the walls, awards and such to people long dead, and well –"

"They all started shaking," Malfoy continued. "Weird like, and definitely not normal."

"Like an earthquake?" Blaise Zabini spoke up, joining in on the conversation.

"No," Malfoy said quickly. "The room wasn't shaking, just the plaques. They rattled endlessly, and with dozens of them doing it, the sound was abysmally loud, and we were worried that we would get caught."

"And then, one of the plaques shot off the wall," Nott said, taking over, and including wild arm motions. "It soared across the room, and knocked another one off the wall. Seconds later, the trophies all started to levitate off the ground, spinning like a top. I was spooked, thoroughly, and we ran out into the hallway."

"We didn't see what else happened in the room after that, but as we ran, all the statues started to vibrate as well, and the metal armor shaking was much louder than those plaques. I was convinced the whole school would hear the racket, but we kept running. I was afraid that if we looked back, we would see the suits of armor chasing us."

"But we ran up some stairs, took a few corners, ran into what we know now was the third floor corridor, and locked the door behind us."

"Out of the frying pan and into the fire," Blaise spoke up once again. The two boys gave her a curious look.

"Yeah, well, with the choice of dying from a great massive three-headed beast, or having a clean death by a sword, I'd choose the sword, so we headed back into the hallway. Thankfully, it was as if nothing ever happened. Everything was quiet, perhaps too quiet, so we ran back here as quickly as possible, and the fact that it all stopped so suddenly was even scarier."

"That's quite the story," Pansy said with admiration. "You think it was that Weasley buffoon playing a trick on you?"

"No way," Draco said confidently. "I doubt even those twin brothers of his could pull of magic like that. I'd never seen such a thing, or even heard of such a thing."

"Peeves?" Nott suggested halfheartedly.

"Yeah, maybe," Draco answered unconvincingly. "I don't know, it's possible he was playing a prank. Bloody poltergeist, why does anyone allow that infernal thing to stay here?"

His words sounded hallow, as if Draco were searching for any possible explanation to the events. Harry would admit that he was a bit spooked as well. Who has ever heard of a whole room shaking like that?

Minutes passed, and without a spoken word, everyone slowly trickled out of the room and into the protection of their own beds. No monsters could get them while they slept under their warm blankets. Or so they hoped.

* * *

**_Author's Notes: _**_ I'll try to keep this short. The next chapter of this should be coming out fairly quickly, I'm already 2,000 words into it. I've posted the first part of a long one-shot a few days ago. It's a firefly/HP crossover called "You Can't Take The Sky From Me". At 20k+ words, it should keep you entertained for an hour or two. Also, Root of All Evil is still on the forefront of my mind, there's not much that needs to be done to chapter 3 before I post it._

_Finally, a little bit about this chapter. The witching hour bit was sort of spur of the moment. With this story, I am trying to escape from all the normal Slytherin!Harry tropes by trying to make it more realistic and in line with the actual context of the story. None of that extreme house rivalry bullshit, or that every Slytherin is automatically a dark wizard and a death eater. This is the kind of story that needs some world building, and that is what I plan on doing. Change takes time, and I hope that the Witching Hour adds a darker, slightly grittier atmosphere to the story. Who would think that a secondary reason to having a curfew is so ghosts don't eat you during the night? The concept will be explored in many chapters to come as well, especially since this will be a Dark!Harry story._

_Last thought: The line - "Greengrass didn't seem to care at all, and she continued to sit on one of the couches, mostly likely reading a textbook on astrophysics or maybe __The Art of War_." She's not actually reading those books, but you can just picture some boy in school who sees that the same girls seems to always constantly be reading, always has her homework in on time, and stuff like that, you'd think of her as a bit of a nerd. The point is that Harry is prejudging someone a bit, but as a constant theme, Harry is quite curious.


	6. Chapter 6

_I wish you all a most glorious Christmas, and here is my gift to you._

* * *

The morning following the duel was interesting, to say the least. The rumor mill worked harder than ever, pushing out stranger and more unlikely stories with every minute that passed.

One thing that everyone knew to be true was that Draco and Weasley never actually dueled, nor did Nott and Longbottom. Yet, it was confirmed that both Weasley and Longbottom were in the hospital wing due to several mild injuries obtained during the night.

That's where all the rumors began. No one knew what caused it, and the only two people who could say were the two boys in question, and they weren't speaking. Or perhaps, they simply didn't know either.

All Harry knew, though, was that the events that occurred against both pairs of boys that night had to be connected in some way. Somehow, Malfoy and Nott had escaped serious injury, while the other two got severely pummeled.

Harry shivered at the thought, but in the end, he was quite glad that it was not him. He didn't fancy a long stay in the hospital wing.

Still, the current day was much more ominous than that one. October 31st was a day that no one could forget, Harry least of all. Halloween to some, All Hallows Eve to others, and Samhain to most of the traditionalist Purebloods, which just happened to include pretty much everyone in Slytherin but Harry. He didn't have the luxury of growing up in their world, so he had no clue what they were on about. It wasn't as if he had a preference for Muggle holidays either, since he'd never been asked to participate in them by his relatives.

Regardless, it was no coincidence that Voldemort tried to kill Harry on that day, ten years ago. It was also no coincidence that Voldemort met his end as well. The mechanics behind that was still nothing but speculation, even to the likes of Dumbledore.

To Harry, though, it was none of that. It was the day when he turned from a fifteen month old baby and into a hero, a legend, and an idol. But beyond all that, it was the day he lost his parents. In that regards, he had plenty of reasons to loathe the 31st. While everyone else was using the day to celebrate (or perhaps in secret, lament) the defeat of the Dark Lord, Harry mourned.

Harry walked down to the lake, to spend some time alone, and to think about how radical his life had been so far. It was raining out, but it didn't matter to him. It seemed fitting.

He couldn't remember his parents at all. He had no pictures of them to call his own and aside from Hagrid and a few of the stories he's told, Harry knew very little about them. Even so, he had been at Hogwarts for two whole months, and those might have been the best two months of his entire life. He had never felt closer to home than what he felt while at Hogwarts

Harry, not knowing the proper way to pay his respects, made up his own. Perhaps it was better that way, to create his own tradition that he would perform every year. He picked up a rock, and gripping his wand, he used a basic charm to lightly chisel into the stone, carving out his parents' names, James and Lily. He did that ten times, one for each year they've been dead in body.

He held each rock, one at a time, and thought about his parents. Emotions, events, or a particular anecdote he had heard about them, whatever he could think of, he remembered. He would contemplate that, and skip the rocket out into the lake, where it would sink down to the bottom and remain for eternity.

When he was done, Harry laid back on the grass, letting the rain fall onto his face. If he was crying, it would be hard to tell.

He didn't notice that someone had joined him on the grass until she spoke up. "You alright, Harry?" She asked. "You've been out here for a while."

Turning his head, Harry saw that Blaise Zabini had lain down next to him, staring up into the rain as well. She was wearing a heavy coat, but it seemed to be getting soaked with rain.

"Just thinking. I'm not much for celebrations, I'm afraid."

"Ah," she said. "I see. Everyone is happy that the Dark Lord was defeated, yet no one seems to remember the cost, except you. Do you miss them? Your parents I mean."

"Miss them? I'm not sure. I don't remember them. I miss not having the opportunity to know them though. A thousand what-if scenarios run through my head. What if I never met my relatives, what if I've know of magic my whole life, what if I was sorted in Gryffindor like they were… What if they were alive."

"They will always live on in your heart, remember that."

Minutes passed by in silence. Harry wasn't feeling very talkative, and Blaise wasn't going to push. She was there to be his friend, and to listen if he wanted to talk.

After a few more minutes though, Blaise's teeth started to clatter and she was shivering. Harry noticed, and with a few well practiced waves of his wand, he cast a drying and water repelling charm onto her clothes.

"Thanks," she said sincerely. "When did you learn that?"

"Hagrid taught me. He knew my parents, so I visit him occasionally for some tea. He's not as dumb as people think. He knows a lot of practical magic, even though he got expelled."

"Interesting," Blaise said. "Those spells are far more useful than what we've learned from Quirrell."

They shared a brief laugh before settling into a comfortable silence.

Finally, Harry asked, "Have you lost anyone? Due to the war that is."

"No. It's just me and my mother. I never met my father, as he died when I was young. I don't have any memories of him either, but my mum says that's a good thing. A 'right ole piece of work' she called him. She's been married seven times, so you can imagine what she thinks of them all."

"What does she do, if you don't mind me asking?"

"She's a business woman. She runs a place down in Knockturn alley."

"Knockturn Alley?" Harry asked curiously.

"It's an offshoot of Diagon Alley. It's a good place to find a lot of stuff that doesn't involve the Hogwarts curriculum, and there's actually more business done there than in Diagon. It's not a place for kids like us though. Since Diagon Alley is the face of the place, Knockturn is rougher, darker, more chaotic. But if you think the wares offered in Diagon were impressive, you haven't seen anything until you've been to Knockturn."

"Sounds… interesting," Harry commented.

"It is. But like I said, it's not a place you want to find yourself alone in, as you may just find yourself 'lost'. My mum's place is pretty obvious, but I wouldn't go within a hundred feet of it…" she said, trailing off.

Harry didn't question what she meant. It seemed like Blaise was ashamed of her mother's business. Perhaps she sold cauldrons, or peddled cheap secondhand goods, or was a drug dealer.

"I guess we should head back inside, before anyone get's worried," Harry said.

"Are you feeling better?" Blaise asked.

"Yeah, thanks. Talking helped a lot." In truth, Harry felt a lot better. They had somehow managed to both talk about his sadness, and get his mind off it in the same instance. It was nice to have a friend. Maybe he could trust her with the little bit of information he knew about the mysteriously guarded object.

* * *

Even though he felt better, dinner was still a subdued affair for him. He did like the atmosphere though. There were great huge pumpkins, large enough to be carved and depict large battles and other events. Thousands, maybe even tens of thousands, candles floated in the air, casting an eerie light down onto tables below. The ghosts, out in full force, glinted like lampshades, and bats flew overhead in long arcs. They were clearly magic in nature, otherwise the whole hall would be an absolute mess.

It reminded Harry very much of a Muggle Halloween, except a hundred times more over-the-top. Magic truly was a wonderful thing, but Harry was curious as to why it was used to display such mundane, Muggle-like holiday decorations. There were only a handful of Muggleborn in the school, afterall, less than five in his year. It would make more sense to Harry that they would observe the most commonly celebrated holidays, but he didn't really care. He never celebrated any holidays before anyway. It was just a mere curiosity, one of many quirks of the wizarding world that Harry really didn't understand, but didn't really mind either.

Regardless, any reason to have a feast was good enough for Harry. The food was excellent and had no complaints about anything - he just didn't feel like partaking in any of the conversation. The whole Slytherin table was more subdued than usual, so his demeanor was not really noticed. It was a bit too boisterous for most, and the day did mean different things for different people. That didn't stop them from conforming to their natural decorum of eating, but they were noticeably less cheerful than usual, and that was saying something.

But when Professor Quirrell ran into the Great Hall, screaming about a troll in the dungeons, it was getting a bit too real for Harry.

The atmosphere instantly changed from one of mostly exuberance and cheerfulness to one of complete fear and panic.

Students jumped up out of their seats, as if they were going to run and hide somewhere, but as soon as Quirrell fainted, Dumbledore rose from his chair, and with a loud booming voice, he commanded: _"Silence!"_

Order was restored almost instantly, such was the power in the Headmaster's voice. All the students sat back down, but they were still a bit scared. Regardless, what was a troll to the Headmaster? Or any of the other teachers for that matter. And that brought up an interesting thought.

"Quirrell is the Defense professor, so why is he so scared of a troll, to the point that he fainted?" Harry asked.

"You're right," Daphne said from a bit further down the table. Her eyes were contemplative, and she was no longer paying any attention to the book in front of her. "He should be able to take a troll with his eyes closed. They are not the smartest of creatures, and I bet even the prefects could take one out by themselves. Very suspicious."

There were many rumbles of agreement amongst the students. Quirrell was not a very well liked teacher, and fainting in the middle of the Great Hall, supposedly from a creature that he should be able to handle easily, wasn't raising his reputation to anyone.

"Prefects, please escort your students to your common rooms," Dumbledore ordered. "Professors, with me."

Harry saw Snape whisper something to Dumbledore before he set off alone, but Harry's current thoughts were vocalized by Pansy Parkinson. "If the troll's in the dungeons…"

"And that's… where our common room is," Harry said, finishing the notion.

Silence greeted them for a bit as they mulled that over. "Well," Blaise said. "Greengrass mentioned that a prefect could probably take out a troll. And besides, the dungeons are a pretty large network of tunnels, what are the chances that it just happens to be in our little section?"

Murmurs of agreement arose, but Harry couldn't help but feel that they just got jinxed by her statement.

Following the rest of the Slytherins, they made their way down into the dungeons. Tonks was at the very front with another prefect, while two more watched the back. There was no talking, none at all, as everyone innately strained their ears, hoping to not hear the tell-tale sound of a troll.

Aside from the pat-pat of feet stepping across the stones, the only sounds Harry heard were the drip-drip of water, and the rhythmic breathing of the other students. The tension was almost palpable though, and that was the worst part.

But there was a distinct smell, one that seemed out of place in the dungeons. Unpredictably, Draco was the first to comment. "Anyone else smell that? It smells like… Mudbloods."

Nott made a pronounced sniffing motion. "Yeah, I didn't notice it until you said something."

"Well, Davis and Potter are the closest things to being Mudbloods down here," Draco remarked in a loud whisper. Goyle and Crabbe let out low, rumbling laughs, reminding everyone that they were still present. They were often easy to overlook, blending in with the stonework.

Ignoring the remark about his parentage, Harry responded. "It could be the troll, and with you speaking so loudly, you might get its attention."

"Well, in that case, I say we feed you and Davis to it, and hope your muddy blood will poison and kill it."

Harry narrowed his eyes. Why was Draco bringing up his heritage now, of all times? Was it simply because it was the night his parents died, and that event was on everyone's minds? Harry knew that some of the followers of the Dark Lord had children and they walked amongst him now, could it be they were feeling slightly distressed by the date? Harry wasn't the only one whose life was turned upside down on that night, and Harry couldn't blame them for how they were raised. Well, Harry could, but he didn't want to stoop down to Malfoy's level.

But none of them have ever seemed overly hostile to him before because of that fact. After all, Slytherin's legacy was far more engrained in their culture than the recent Dark Lord's, and being in that House was an honor to some, and a privilege to most.

So that meant that Draco was posturing. The entirety of Slytherin House was within hearing range of him, all seventy-plus of them, and Draco was the kind of privileged kid who thought he deserved the world. Ninety-five percent of the time Draco was fairly tolerable, even likeable, but it was that other five percent where he felt the need to act out in some desperate, pathetic, bid to show off and to bask in his peers' approval.

This was the other five percent, and Tracey voiced her opinion. "Piss off, Draco! I'm a fourth generation witch. I have no living muggle relatives, so I _am_ pureblood."

"Maybe by Blood Traitors' standards," Draco responded with a haughty laugh, "but to all the old families, you're barely noticeable."

Tracey was getting visibly upset, and while Malfoy's words hurt Harry as well, Tracey was his friend, and Draco was assaulting her family's name for no reason. Malfoy had more people nodding to his words than hers though, the majority of the House in fact, even Daphne Greengrass, who never really had an opinion on anything in light of actual facts. Disgusting, but sometimes people's true colors show in the heat of the moment, or perhaps the opposite is true and no one was thinking rationally.

Instead of forming a rational response, Tracey took off down a side passage of the dungeon, quicker than anyone could follow. Harry was just barely able to hear a few sobs before she was out of hearing distance.

Harry wasn't upset, no, he was fuming.

"Well, Potter, are you going to join her? Mudbloods unite. You defeated the Dark Lord, so surely, a troll would be a trifling thing."

"What the hell is your problem today, Malfoy?" Harry responded angrily. The Slytherin column was no longer walking, and Tonks was trying to claw her way through the tightly packed throng of observers to break up the impending fight.

"Oh, don't even get me started Potter. You have no idea, and I mean _no idea,_ of what it's been like, what my father has had –"

Whatever boring thing he had to say about his father was cut off as a loud scream echoed down the hallway. The bottom of Harry's stomach dropped upon hearing the distressing sound, and although he had never heard Tracey scream before, he knew without a doubt that it was her.

Before anyone could even act though, the sound of Tracey running was followed closely by the witch herself, and following in her footsteps was a beast the size of a baby whale, if it were to stand on its tail, and twice as heavy. It looked like a troll, sounded like a troll, and smelt like a troll, so Harry deduced that it was the troll. Just their luck.

But swifter than Harry could contemplate his brief stroke of genius, the monster was upon them. It wielded a club that was no smaller than a battering ram, and it wielded it with a primal instinct, one of a hunter. And the small humans were its prey. Many of them were too shocked by its sudden appearance to even lift a wand, and quicker than anyone could even draw them, it swung.

The tear-jerking sound of a young girl intermingled with the roar of a troll and the sound of breaking bones, and the beast's club had found its first victim in the form of Blaise Zabini.

Her limp form flew back ten feet down the hallway before skidding another ten and stopping at the feet of the entire Slytherin house, whose mouths were agape in terror. The sound of screaming was not in short supply.

Harry was just astonished as the rest, no less than the fact that it was his friend, Blaise. He just had a comforting talk with her a few hours ago, and now she lay motionless at his feet, demolished by the troll. It was simply unreal.

He had no time to think though, none at all. The club swung once more, and a second girl joined the first, her body slack and blood flying through the air as her ribs cracked and buckled. Daphne Greengrass joined Blaise on the ground, unmoving, and perhaps it was an ironic turn of events for her casual dismissal of Tracey's lineage barely a minute earlier.

There was no time to contemplate that though. Harry vaguely heard and saw the sound of several spells coming from the prefects wands as the club swung down at him as well, and he too, joined the ranks of the defeated. The last thing he saw before blackness was the flash of pink hair looking down at him with concern.

* * *

Harry awoke with a groan, as cliché as that was. Pain was on the forefront of his mind, but it was a numbing pain, lingering like a bad taste in the mouth to remind him that it was always present.

It wasn't the pain that woke him up though; it was the sound of loud voices.

"… Not even Slytherin himself could stop me from seeing my niece! I suggest getting out of my way, Dumbledore!" The voice was distinctly male, and distinctly angry as well.

"Give me one good reason, Anders Greengrass, why I should not call the Aurors to arrest you immediately?" The voice of Dumbledore was steady and held a note of authority.

"My niece has been gravely injured under your watch, and you dare threaten me? I promise you, Dumbledore, that I just wish to see her and I wish no one here any harm. You know full well that if I did, I would not have made it past the front gate of this ancient castle."

"Indeed," Dumbledore said. "And you also know full well, that masking one's intent is not impossible."

If it was possible, Harry could have heard the man's eyes narrow. "I see. I am well aware of who else got injured by your… oversight, and if my word is not good enough, than watch over me yourself, if you must. I am not here to fight."

There was a brief moment of hesitation in the Headmaster's voice. "Very well. But you cannot stay for long."

"Just long enough to make sure your school nurse is adequately competent to heal Daphne back to normal."

The sound of walking greeted Harry's ears, and he missed Dumbledore's response as he positioned himself to pretend like he was sleeping.

With one eye open, the injured-but-recovering Harry spotted the mystery man. He was tall, at least a couple inches over six feet, and his face was completely shrouded by shadow. The man's cloak was pitch black in the darkness of the hospital wing, and he exuded a presence of subdued malevolence. He was a dangerous man, that much was obvious, but with Dumbledore there, Harry felt safe.

The man walked past Harry's bed, but not without taking a glance at him. Whether or not he was just judged, he did not know, but the man did not linger as he stopped in front of the bed to the right.

Daphne was sleeping, or she was until the man gently shook her awake. "Daphne, can you hear me? How are you feeling?"

The witch was in just as bad of a shape as Harry, with bandages covering up a lot of her body. Blinking the sleepiness out of her eyes, she responded, "Uncle Andy, is that you? What are you doing here? This is still Hogwarts, right? I haven't been taken home?"

"This is the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts," Dumbledore responded in his trademark grandfatherly voice. "You, along with two of your Housemates, were severely injured by a troll. You will heal back to full health, but you will miss a few days of classes while you recover."

"So it's true then?" Anders Greengrass asked. "A troll is responsible for this? How is this possible, Dumbledore?"

"I do not know, but I assure you, all my staff is looking into it as we speak."

"That is not good enough, Dumbledore."

"Please, uncle, don't fight," Daphne nearly begged. Harry had never heard her sound like that before.

"As you wish, Daphne," Anders said with a nod of his head. "I only wish to see that such a thing never happens again. Who is the Defense teacher?"

"Professor Quirrell," Daphne said quickly. "But he passed out during dinner upon announcing its presence. Bloody useless he is. "

"What kind of man did you hire that passes out when confronted with a beast that he should easily be able to take care of? Who did take care of it?"

"A miss Nymphadora Tonks, seventh year Slytherin Prefect," Dumbledore responded.

"I see. A spawn of the House of Black. I shall have to commend her for accomplishing the job her Defense teacher failed to do... A job that should never have fallen to the hands of the student body."

Daphne's uncle's voice was rising in anger, but not to the point of shouting. It was clear he was upset, and rightfully so. A troll should never have been able to get into the school.

"It is with my deepest regret that this happened under my watch," Dumbledore assured. "A troll could not simply wander into the school, I assure you. I fear that this was more than a mere prank. Someone or someones, wished my students harmed, and I shall not stand for that, and neither should you. I am not the man you should turn your anger to."

"Oh yes, if I ever find out who hurt Daphne, I will hurt them tenfold. You can watch if you want, Dumbledore, and maybe I'll even let you have a go."

"I shall have to decline your offer and pretend that I did not just hear you threaten to torture a man in front of the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and several eleven year old students. And perhaps it is time for you to leave. You are a wanted man, after all. My hand can only be stayed for so long, a blind eye turned."

"Very well, Headmaster, as you wish. You shall not see me here again unless we find ourselves in similar circumstances."

"I shall escort you out," Dumbledore said congenially. "We wouldn't want anyone to see you here, would we?"

"Indeed, and you wouldn't want my feet to stray. Who knows how many people would be in this room by the end of the night if that were to happen?"

Harry was quite confused about the whole situation. It was funny though, how both men could thinly lie with smiles on their faces and a daggers in their palms, and both realize it. It was posturing on a whole new level that Harry couldn't even begin to understand.

When the two adults were out of hearing range, Harry rolled back over in a natural manner, trying to fall back asleep. Daphne noticed him though.

"Not a word, Potter. I mean it," Daphne said from her bed. "My uncle was never here."

"Or what?" Blaise Zabini asked, announcing her presence. "You don't want your dear uncle to be joining your father, would you?"

"Shut it, Blaise. I'm not in the mood for this!"

"It is curious though, why would Dumbledore even allow a Death Eater into the school, and a wanted man none-the-less," Blaise said with no small amount of dislike. "Perhaps he _is_ growing soft."

"Don't use words you don't understand," Daphne said harshly. "The war has been over for ten years now, we have Potter here to thank for that. We can't even comprehend what it was like for our parents back then. And besides, your mother is a whore, who are you to talk? Do you even know who your father is?"

"At least my father isn't locked up in Azkaban," Blaise retorted.

"Well, at least my father fought for something he believed in. What did yours do, die of old age?"

Blaise practically growled back at the other witch. Harry had a feeling that if they could move their arms and have access to their wands, spells would be flying.

After several minutes of the girls bickering, Harry had enough. "Quiet, will you! If you should be angry at anyone, it should be at Malfoy. If he wasn't such a prick, Tracey would never have run off and trailed the troll back to us.

Blaise hrumphed. "Well, I bet Daphne's uncle is swell friends with Malfoy's father as they run in the same circles. He wouldn't be too happy to learn that Draco is partially to blame."

"That is why I want you to keep this quiet. It's only two months into the school year, and we will be living with him for the next seven years. I'd rather not have all this animosity between us so early on. We are Slytherins first and foremost. Anything else, including blood heritage, is secondary."

There was silence after that few a few minutes before Harry had one last thing to say. "I really, _really_, hate Halloween."

* * *

Harry had managed to fall back asleep again, but it was only for a few hours. He tossed and turned as much as his itchy bandages allowed, but the sun beating brightly down on him was too much for him to sleep through.

Before he could even prop himself up on the pillows, the school's Matron bustled by, carrying several grim-looking potions on a silver tray.

"Ah, you're awake, Mr. Potter. You need to drink these potions if you wish to get better in the near future."

Before Harry could even speak a word, a goblet with a foul liquid was shoved in his face. He drank it quickly and without fuss, but it was without a doubt the worse thing he had even tasted.

That is, until he tasted the second potion.

But when he was done with the potions and done fighting the urge to vomit, he managed to say something. "You'd think with magic, those potions would taste a tad better than absolute shite."

"Tut-tut, Mr. Potter," the nurse scolded. "It's an incentive to not find yourself back here. Consider yourself lucky that you don't have to take a lung regrowing potion like Miss Greengrass over there. Now _that_ is a vile tasting potion, and I've seen them all."

Harry shivered at the thought of there being a potion viler than the one he just had. The nurse bumbled away to the next patient, and Harry couldn't help but feel slight pity for Greengrass.

Then, he noticed that there was a fourth person bandaged up in the far corner of the room. "Hey, Nurse, who is that over there?" Harry asked, making a pointing motion with his head. It was too painful to move his arm. It felt like his bones were splintering or something, not that he knew what that felt like.

Nurse Pomfrey, upon seeing who Harry was talking about, answered. "Oh, the poor dear. That's Hermione Granger. Apparently she was in the girls' lavatory when the troll found her first, minutes before it found you. She's lucky she's alive at all."

"Why was the troll in the bathroom?" Harry asked curiously. He didn't know that bit of information, all he saw was the troll chasing after Tracey.

"Probably the same reason it found you. It's attracted to noises, and smells. And young girls who are just starting to – well, never mind." The nurse continued administering her potions, but not before muttering under her breath. "A troll… two months in. What's next, a dragon?"

The Matron of the Medical Arts continued with her muttering, but it grew fuzzy as Harry's head became heavy, and sleep, once again, overcame him. The potions worked quickly, and with severe injuries, the recovery would be quite unpleasant.

* * *

When Harry reawoke for the third time, the sun was noticeably lower in the sky, suggesting that it was mid-afternoon. He looked around to see what woke him up this time, when he saw a witch come through the door, carrying a large, heavy satchel. It was Tracey Davis.

She hesitated upon entering, unsure of herself, until she spotted Harry, Daphne, and Blaise lying in their respective beds.

"Harry!" She whispered loudly. "I'm glad you're alright. Well… at least, you will be. I'm sorry I didn't mean for this to… it's just… is there another girl here? I ran to the girls' loo, and the troll, it was there standing over a girl, and I sort of just panicked and ran. I think she was, maybe, you know…"

"Don't worry Tracey, she's alive," Harry assured quickly. "It was Hermione Granger. She's sleeping over there on the other side."

Tracey noticeably relaxed after learning that no one was dead.

"Look, Davis," Daphne said, "I'm sorry for what happened yesterday. I just stood next to Malfoy as he insulted you and your family, and well, you didn't deserve that."

"Thank you for your apology," Tracey responded. "Halloween means many different things to many people, and with the troll loose, tempers were flared, some people acted in ways they normally wouldn't, and said things they don't really mean. Well, Malfoy probably _did_ mean it…"

"Yes, it was the heat of the moment," Daphne admitted. "I'm not sure what really came over me, siding with Malfoy of all people, so I'll just say it now. I don't really take that much stock in the 'blood conquers all' philosophy, since it is that belief that decimated the majority of my family. My uncle is a wanted man, my father is in Azkaban, and other than my sister and mother, there are none of us left."

Harry listened in intently on the conversation. No one really talked about the war, but Halloween was a day of remembrance and he learned more about it on that day than the previous two months combined. It was interesting to hear everyone's opinions on it, biased they may be.

"I may not have lost anyone during the war, but even today, my family can't talk about it without fear in their voices. It's November now though, and I don't really wish to talk about those events anymore. I know it affected everyone and no one will forget it any time soon, but I would like to move on past it. Oh, and that reminds me."

Tracey began to dig through the satchel she bought, unloading piles of books. "I would have come sooner, but there was not enough time between classes to make the trips. Plus, I managed to get the professors to give me the assignments you will miss, so you don't fall behind, and your textbooks. Oh, and Potter, Parkinson has given you her Potions' notes as well, something about not wanting her partner to slack off while injured. Touching, really, I think she may be crushing on you," she laughed at the last part.

"I doubt it," Harry replied quickly and adamantly. "She's intelligent and a hard worker, but she hangs around with Malfoy a bit too much, and well… he's turning into a bit of a bully. First it was the Remembrall and the duel, and now this."

"It's a shame that the troll didn't get him as well," Daphne said. "It might have taught him a bit of humility. Thanks for bringing my books though, Tracey, I really appreciate it. I'd probably die of boredom."

"Yes, thank you," Blaise seconded. "You're a good friend, and I'm glad that the troll didn't hurt you as well."

Tracey made small talk for a few more minutes before looking up at the clock on the wall. "It's nearing supper, and as much as I would love to join in on your bland hospital food, I should get going."

After Tracey Davis left, Daphne voiced her thoughts. "Decent girl, that Davis is. I guess I shouldn't have underestimated her – she'd make a good friend."

Neither of the other's had anything to say to that. Both Harry and Blaise were good friends with Tracey already. Daphne had something else on her mind though, and after clearing her throat, she spoke to Blaise."

"Listen, Zabini, I'm sorry for calling your mom a whore earlier. It's just that, well, I hate feeling so helpless, and all it took was one second for that troll, and here we are…"

"And I'm sorry for calling your uncle a Death Eater… that's a big accusation."

"Well, to be fair, he is," Daphne admitted with a small laugh. "But he's a good man and cares about us. He's not heartless."

"I guess my mother is a… courtesan… as well," Blaise confessed. "But she does care for me, even if she has a weird way of showing it. Family is important, no matter their life choices. And having friends are important too, especially friends you can be open with."

Harry mulled those words over, and realized that perhaps he had judged the blonde-haired witch too quickly, just as she had done to the other girls. And he also realized that maybe, just maybe, they had all gained a new friend in Daphne Greengrass. He could live with that.

* * *

**_Author's Notes _**_ As always, if you do see any mistakes, please say so. This chapter probably should have had one more edit, but I wanted to release it today. I don't strive for absolute perfection, since perfection is boring. But I do desire readability. I'm not completely satisfied with the hospital scenes at the end, but the topic of blood heritage had to be explored eventually, and there was no better time than the anniversary of Voldemort's defeat. This story isn't a political story in the normal cliche sense, but it will explore many logical topics ranging from a whole plethora of reasons, many of which stem from the fact that Harry wasn't raised in the magical world and he really doesn't understand the nuances that everyone learned growing up._

_The next chapter is already 2k words done. There are some more scenes from hospital wing as Harry recovers, and some more interesting topics are covered. It will be focusing a bit more on plot development than the character development this chapter had. There are some interesting setups already, such as Daphne's uncle being a Death Eater, and that she got injured by his former master, and that could create some interesting scenes in the future. Dumbledore is a keen character and while he doesn't know that Voldemort caused the troll attack, he hasn't ruled out the possibility of another Death Eater making a power play. So, he's sort of already planning ahead for the inevitable conflicts, almost manipulating events you wish, in a proper, clever manner befit the man._

_As for my other stories... I had tried to get the next chapter of Root of All Evil out for Christmas as well, but I didn't quite finish it. It'll get done though, but I'm currently enjoying working on this story a lot. The second chapter in my Firefly story is also coming along as well. Except the next chapter of this story to be approximately the same length as this one, with the same time lapse in between._


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